Grey Book of Days - Volume II (A 3 Vol Tale of the War of the Ring)
by ThroughMyEyesOnly
Summary: Amira's story continues! Follow her with what remains of the Fellowship as they arrive at Theoden's hall, where many things are to be learned, not only of the deepening menace of Mordor, but also of the darkness that lies in the hearts of Men. Enter Amira's mind as she fights to balance the darkness within her own magic, a magic capable of bringing Sauron's reach closer than ever..
1. The Plains of Eastemnet

**Volume II**

_And so begins the second volume of Amira's tale. There were no missing pages to be accounted for here, so we assume this flight to the land of Rohan to the North-West is the true beginning._

Chapter Seventeen: The Plains of Eastemnet

The following days were a blur of repetition, but most of all, energy sapping pain. I had never had to run any distance with a wound, and I was finding every step a painful one. I did my best to hold my arm in a way that wouldn't jostle it so, but it soon became clear that pain was unavoidable.

As we moved away from the River Anduin and the hills by Amon Hen, the earth levelled and stretched as far as the eye could see in fields of stunning gold to contrast the blue sky. Aragorn stopped every once and awhile to lay his ear to the ground and listen for the Uruk-hai, and I took advantage of these small rests, for they were few and far between. What a time to be injured! At the end of a day, my jaw would ache from holding it in a tight grimace. Of course, I was of little help to gather firewood or hunt for edible plants, although I did make a weak attempt to assist whenever I could. I was quickly led away to sit by the fire, where I would cradle my arm and battle against my dazedness and pain. Even sleep evaded me, since the constant agony tormented me at rest.

On the fourth day of running, my legs gave out. I suppose I must have fainted from pain momentarily, for some time had passed before my eyelids fluttered open. Legolas and Ehlon were leaning over me concernedly, and I lifted myself up onto my elbows.

Shame filled me. I took a deep breath: "I did not mean for that to happen. Let us continue,"

Legolas grasped my uninjured arm when I attempted to stand, holding me down. Ehlon gazed at me with a frown.

"I do not think you should continue any further," she said slowly. "This run is killing you!"

Reaching out, she placed her palm over my forehead, and her hand was cool against my feverish skin. I closed my eyes for a moment, and when I opened them, Aragorn had stepped forward.

"Amira, are you alright?" he asked, and I nodded. Ehlon shook her head.

"She is far from alright, Aragorn," she hissed angrily. "The wound is giving her a fever, and she will only weaken further. She needs proper rest and sleep, not to mention a healer!"

Aragorn chewed at his lip, frowning. In the silence that followed Ehlon's statement, Legolas spoke up.

"I will carry her," he offered, and Ehlon's head snapped toward the Elf.

I gazed up at him in surprise. Aragorn gave a slow nod, and Legolas gathered me into his arms, carefully lifting me up. I winced a little, and Ehlon frown deepened.

"Are you comfortable?" Legolas asked softly. I attempted a smile, although I felt perfectly ridiculous. I should not have needed such measures!

They all began to run again, and I suppose I must have slipped into a feverish doze against the Prince's chest, for night had fallen when Legolas laid me on my cloak to sleep. At this time I was so exhausted that no pain would keep me from sleep, for soon morning came and the process was repeated.

* * *

Legolas carried me for two more days, and it was on the seventh day that I felt strong enough to run on my own. The Elf did not like this one bit, but he allowed it with a delicate frown.

On and on we ran over the rolling, golden fields until at last Legolas's keen eyes spotted the dark gathering of Uruk-hai on the horizon. Aragorn called for a momentary rest.

Legolas shook his head. "They run as if the very whips of their masters were behind them."

"Indeed, Legolas. They are marching far quicker than I expected," our leader admitted slowly. "Let us hope they slow their advances."

There was silence as a water flask was passed around. I believe we were all attempting not to think of the possibilities surrounding Merry and Pippin's fate at the hands of the Uruk-hai. Gimli, leaning on his axe, sighed emphatically but said nothing.

Allowing my senses to expand, I stretched myself as far as I could. To my surprise, I met the dark force of the Uruk-hai army on the horizon. Although my reaction was to pull away in revulsion, I scanned through the melting pot of black energy for the Hobbits, feeling my energy drain as I did so. In the next moment, I felt their life forces, pure and unmistakable. I pulled back in excitement.

All were staring curiously at me.

"The Hobbits?" Ehlon guessed anxiously.

My voice nearly broke with relief. "They are alive!" I breathed out, a smile forming on my face momentarily.

Aragorn's shoulders straightened. "Are you certain?"

I nodded, and Legolas brushed off the grass from his legs.

"The Hobbits are crafty folk to stay in one piece among those foul Uruk-hai," he murmured in admiration. Ehlon smiled, rolling her neck to the side.

Gimli raised his axe. "Let us run!" he growled.

And run we did, our footsteps buoyed by not only our purpose, but the knowledge that our dear friends were alive…

* * *

On the eighth day, just as the morning sun was rising and setting alight the tips of the grass, Aragorn heard the thundering of hooves from his place on the ground. Blinking the last remains of sleep from my eyes, I watched as he and Legolas stood side by side, both squinting into the distance.

"They are riding quickly," the Elf murmured.

"How many are there, Legolas? Your eyes are far keener than mine," Aragorn said.

There was a pause. "Twenty-five dozen," he confirmed, "And I believe they have seen us."

Ehlon's hand went to the hilt of her sword. "Who are they?" she asked, "The Rohirrim?"

Aragorn nodded, but he seemed deep in thought. I pulled myself into a sitting position, trying to sort through the changing events. The Rohirrim were the Riders of Rohan, a highly trained and deadly force of warriors to which I had heard many tales of from other Rangers.

Ehlon gazed up at the sky for a moment, closing her eyes. Then she turned to Aragorn. "They must have met the Uruk-hai on the horizon, for it would be impossible not to sight them in this sort of landscape."

Indeed, without natural valleys or mountains or even forests, there was little to conceal an enemy here…

Aragorn did not answer for a long moment. Finally, he said: "If they have seen us, we will await them."

Gimli jumped up suddenly. "Excuse me, sir, but I don't like the idea of sitting like a hunted duck in the least," he argued, "They might mistake us for the enemy!"

I stood slowly, and strode to Ehlon, who was still staring at the sky.

Our leader gazed at the indignant Dwarf with an ironic smile. "With a Dwarf and Elf in our midst, it would be difficult to mistake us for Uruk-hai. Wait we must, for the Riders will know of Merry and Pippin."

Ehlon turned to me, lifting up my wounded arm gently. She checked over the temporary bandage before meeting my eyes. "Is it any better?"

I nodded, for it was true that the pain had ebbed slightly. She sighed, "Can you make a fist?"

My attempt was met with a searing jolt of pain, and I stalled. She straightened.

"Come with me a moment," she said, and then she led me to where my cloak was lying on the ground. She made me kneel, and before I could protest, she removed my leather jerkin and outer tunic, leaving me in my thin white undershirt. The morning air was cool, and I shivered a little but did not ask of Ehlon's actions. It was a universal message of peace and surrender in Middle Earth: the white undershirt and visible bandage spoke to any eye that the member of the Company was wounded and would not draw their weapon to fight.

Aragorn smiled a little when he saw Ehlon's handiwork, but again he turned to the advancing dust rising from hooves of the Rohirrim riding toward us. We five stood side by side together unmoving, watching in silence. I shivered again, and Ehlon pulled me close to wrap her cloak around me. Leaning against her gratefully, I watched the oncoming Riders, still two and a half leagues away.

When they were half a league from us, Aragorn raised his head to the morning sun, the rays lighting up the red undertones in his hair. Legolas's hand crept toward his bow but he did not pull it from his shoulder. Gimli, too, appeared restless. But Aragorn was completely at ease as the Rohirrim drew closer. The thundering hooves met my ears at last, and I saw the sun glinting off the raised spears and armour of the great warriors.

I leaned away from Ehlon, taking a deep breath and straightening my spine. She stared straight ahead, her profile against the sun appearing almost regal.

The host of Riders had nearly passed when Aragorn opened his mouth, calling out in a loud, commanding voice: "What news from the North, Riders of Rohan?"

The effect was immediate.

My breath caught as the Riders instantly checked their steeds and charged them in our direction as though they might trample us. I tensed up, but just then the Riders changed their direction and circled around us, forming a smaller and smaller clearing until at last we were surrounded. Our backs pressing against each other as a circle of Riders caged us in with their spears. Aragorn stared calmly at the Rohirrim, but Legolas had an arrow fitted on his bow, and Gimli had raised his axe threateningly. Ehlon had drawn her sword, glaring at the rider pointing his spear at her shoulder. Another rider held his spear a mere hands-length from my neck, and as much as every fibre of my being urged to draw my sword, I resisted, forcing myself to keep calm.

A man seated on a black horse among the chestnuts urged his steed forward slightly, the sun playing on his blonde hair and glinting in his hazel eyes. I saw surprise register on his face when he sighted Ehlon and me, but that soon was gone. He stared at Aragorn with a frown, his face a mask of authority.

"Who are you and what are you doing in this land?" he called out in the Common Speech, his voice breaking the tense silence which had descended.

"I am called Strider," our leader answered fearlessly. "I came out of the North. I am hunting Orcs."

I looked briefly to Aragorn, marvelling at his calmness in this situation. My eyes were drawn back to the speaker when he swung off his horse and handed his spear to a companion. Drawing his sword slowly, he stepped forward to stand face to face with Aragorn.

My body tensed completely as I watched them stare at each other for a long moment. The atmosphere was like the electricity in the air before a lightning storm; the men's eyes shot daggers into each other as they stared.

Finally, the man spoke: "You know little of Orcs if you go hunting them in this fashion. They were swift and well-armed, and they were many. But there is something strange about you, Strider…" the man paused, his clear eyes narrowing. "That is no name for a Man that you give. And strange too is your raiment." Still Aragorn did not speak. The man sighed. "How did you escape our sight? Are you Elvish folk?"

At the corner of my eye, I saw Ehlon bite her lip, a grin flitting across her mouth briefly as amusement crossed her face.

Aragorn glanced at her before returning his gaze to the man in front of him. "No," he said, "Only one of us is an Elf – Legolas from the Woodland Realm in distant Mirkwood. But we have passed through Lothlórien, and the gifts and favour of the Lady go with us."

At the mention of the Lady, the man's eyes widened, and the Riders shifted uncomfortably around us. Then their leader frowned suddenly. "Then there is a Lady in the Golden Wood, as old tales tell!" He stepped closer to Aragorn, "Few escape her nets, they say. But if you have her favour, then you also are net-weavers and sorcerers, maybe."

The man's tone was abrasive, and I felt irritation crawl up my back like a dark spider. Why was not Aragorn rebuking this man? Fingers dug into my arm, and I did not have to glance to the side to know it was Ehlon. I forced myself to calm down, focusing instead on Aragorn's next words.

"Net-weavers and sorcerers we are not," he said, "And there are many old tales that are not simply tales…"

"And don't think you might have that sort of talk about the great Lady around me!" Gimli added gruffly, and the leader turned toward him sharply.

"What was that Dwarf? If you were but a bit higher off the ground, I might hear you better," the man retorted, and Aragorn laid a warning hand on Gimli's shoulder when he saw that the Dwarf was about to attack.

The Riders pressed closer to us, their voices angry as they pushed their spears to our necks.

Aragorn raised his hands, "And whose spears do we have the honour of having pressed to our necks?"

The leader seemed a bit surprised by his words, but answered slowly: "I am Éomer son of Éomund, and am called the Third Marshal of Riddermark…" he paused, frowning at Aragorn and then at Gimli. "Wanderers in the Riddermark would be wise to be less haughty in these days of doubt. First tell me your right name."

Aragorn was still looking directly at the Third Marshal. "First tell me who you serve. Are you friend or foe of Sauron, the Dark Lord of Mordor?"

The man's jaw clenched in an anger I did not understand. "I serve only the Lord of the Mark, Théoden, King of Thengel. We do not serve the Power of the Black Land far away, but neither are we yet at open war with him." Éomer paused, his tone less harsh when he began again. "We welcomed guests kindly in the better days, but in these times the unbidden stranger finds us swift and hard. Come! Who are you? Who do _you _serve?"

Our leader did not even blink. "I serve no man," said he, "but the servants of Sauron I pursue into whatever land they may go. The Orcs whom we pursued took captive two of my friends. In such need a man will not ask for leave to follow the trail. Nor will he count the heads of the enemy save with a sword. I am not weaponless."

Suddenly, Aragorn threw back his cloak, revealing his face and form to the Riders. The Elven wrought sheath glimmered as he drew Andúril, the blade shining with the reflected brightness of the midday sun. "Elendil!" he cried softly, all traces of calmness forgotten, and Éomer backed up a step in shock. "I am Aragorn son of Arathorn and am called Elessar, the Elfstone, Dúnadan, the heir of Isildur, Elendil's son of Gondor. Here is the Sword that was Broken and forged again! Will you aid me or thwart me?" He held Andúril high. "Choose swiftly!"

Éomer stared at him in amazement, as did the Riders surrounding us. I too was marvelling at Aragorn in this moment, watching the sun illuminate the greatness and nobility of his character, the brightness of a future with him as the power of his people. Indeed, he seemed to glow like a stolen flame from the sun itself was burning within him, and it appeared suddenly as though he had grown taller, stronger. It was difficult to look away from him. All the majesty of Kings before him flickered across his face so that he was no longer simply even Aragorn son of Arathorn, but all the ancient nobility of previous ages.

Éomer stepped back further, his eyes lowering to the ground as he sheathed his sword. "These are indeed strange days," he murmured, "Dreams and legends spring to life out of the grass!"

He gestured to his Riders, barking out an order. The spears retreated suddenly, and I sucked in a relieved breath. I had not liked that spear cutting into my neck one bit.

Then Éomer looked to Aragorn again. "Tell me, lord, what brings you here? What doom do you bring out of the North?"

Aragorn lowered his sword slowly, but did not sheath it. "The doom of choice," his voice was softer now, "You may say this to Théoden son of Thengel: open war lies before him, with Sauron or against him. None may live now as they have lived, and few shall keep what they call their own. But of these great matters we will speak later. If chance allows, I will come myself to the King."

There was a pause as Éomer considered Aragorn's words.

"All that you say is strange, Aragorn. Yet you speak the truth, that is plain…" he frowned, "But you have not told all. Will you not now speak more fully of your errand, so that I may judge what to do?"

Our leader sighed. "I set out from Imladris, many weeks ago," he began, "With me went Boromir of Minas Tirith. My errand was to go to that city to aid his folk in their war against Sauron…Gandalf the Grey was our leader. But alas! He fell into darkness in the Mines of Moria and comes not again."

Éomer let out an exhale. "That is heavy tidings…"

"It is tidings more grievous than any in this land can understand," Aragorn continued, "My part of it has been to guide our Company. Through Lórien we came, and thence down the leagues of the Great River to the falls of Rauros. There Boromir was slain by the same Orcs whom you destroyed."

The man shook his head. "Your news is all of woe!" he said. "Great harm is this death to Minas Tirith, and to us all." He paused for a moment. "But now, lord, what would you have me do? It is true that we are not yet at open war with the Black Land, and there are some, close to the King's ear, that speak craven counsels' but war is coming. We shall not forsake our old alliance with Gondor, and while they fight we shall aid them: so I say and all who hold with me." A new fire was flashing in Éomer's eyes now. "The East-mark is my charge, and I have removed all our herds and herdfolk, withdrawing them beyond Entwash, and leaving none her but guards and swift scouts."

Gimli shifted. "Then you do not pay tribute to Sauron?" he asked suspiciously.

Éomer turned to him again, his eyes narrowed. "We do not and we never have." He looked to Aragorn again, who had not twitched. "But at this time our chief concern is with Saruman. He has claimed lordship over all this land, and there has been war between us for many months. He has closed the Gap against us, so that we are likely to be beset both east and west. I do not know how it will all end, and my heart misgives me; for it seems to me that his friends do not all dwell in Isengard…But if you come to the King's house, you shall see for yourself." He paused, all pride and hardness escaping from his tone as he said: "Will you not come? Do I hope in vain that you have been sent to me for a help in doubt and need?"

Aragorn sheathed his sword fluidly, looking kindly at the man before him. "I will come when I may."

"Come now!" Éomer insisted, "There is battle even now upon the Westemnet, and I fear that it may go ill for us. Indeed in this riding north I went without the King's leave. But scouts warned me of the Orc-host coming down out of the Eat Wall three nights ago, and among them they reported some bore the white badges of Saruman. So suspecting what I most fear, a league between the Orthanc and the White Tower, I led my éored and we overtook the Orcs and gave battle yesterday at dawn. Fifteen of my men I lost, and twelve horses alas! For the Orcs were greater in number than we counted on…"

The Hobbits! What could have happened to them? My mind was a flurry of thoughts. I felt Ehlon's fingers dig into my arm again, and I attempted to listen to Éomer's words as he continued.

"Nonetheless," he was saying, "we put an end to them. But we have been too long away. Will you not come?" He looked expectantly at Aragorn, who was silent for a moment.

"I thank you for your fair words, and my heart desires to come with you, but I cannot desert my friends while hope remains."

Hope? The Riders had likely not even noticed the Hobbits among the carnage of the fallen Orcs. How could he say such a thing?

Éomer echoed my thoughts. "Hope does not remain. You will not find your friends on the North-borders."

"Yet my friends are not behind. They were still alive not far from the East Wall, but between the wall and the downs we found no other trace of them, and no trail turned aside. I can only think they were carried off into the forest before the battle. Can you swear that none escaped your net in such a way?"

My heart sank when Éomer shook his head. "I would swear that no Orc escaped after we sighted them. We reached the forest-eaves before them, and if after that any living thing broke through our ring, then it was no Orc and had some Elvish power."

"Our friends are attired even as we are," Aragorn pressed, "and you passed by under the full light of day."

Éomer blinked. "I had forgotten that. It is hard to be sure of anything among so many marvels. How shall a man judge what to do in such times?"

"As he ever has judged," Aragorn murmured, "Good and ill have not changed since yesteryear; nor are they one thing among Elves and Dwarves and another among Men. It is a man's part to discern them, as much in the Golden Wood as in his own house."

Éomer nodded. "True indeed. I do not doubt you." Then an emotion flickered in his eyes for a moment before disappearing. "Yet I am not free to do all as I would. It is against our law to let strangers wander at will in our land, until the King himself shall give them leave, and more strict is the command in these days of peril. I have begged you to come back willingly with me, and you will not. Loth I am to begin a battle of one hundred against five."

Aragorn shook his head, "I do not think your law was made for such a chance. My duty at least is clear, to go on. Aid us, or at the worst let us go free."

I watched Éomer as he seemed to work through Aragorn's words, as though weighing each one carefully. Finally, he spoke: "We both have need of haste. This is my choice: You may go, and what is more, I will lend you horses. This only I ask – when your quest is achieved, or is proved vain, return with the horses of the Entwade to Meduseld, the high house in Edoras where Théoden now sits. Thus you shall prove to him that I have not misjudged. In this place myself, and maybe my very life, in the keeping of your good faith. Do not fail."

Aragorn smiled. "I will not."

With that, Éomer called again in his tongue and four horses were brought forward.

"Alas, I have but four. May these horses bear you to better fortune than their former masters."

Aragorn thanked him quietly, mounting a chestnut brown mare easily. Legolas swung up onto a tan coloured horse, pulling Gimli behind him. The Dwarf grumbled as he attempted to make himself comfortable, and I would have been amused if my thoughts had not been so dark. Aragorn had said we would not fail, but my heart was sinking more and more as every moment passed.

"And this is Anwyl," Éomer said as he handed the reins of a beautiful black horse to me, looking fully into my eyes for the first time. "Lady, you are injured…" he said, gesturing to my bloodied arm. His blue eyes were like staring into a clear summer sky, and I found myself unable to look away.

"My Lord, I thank you for your concern, but I am fine," I returned slowly, and Ehlon nudged my side. Breaking eye contact, I allowed Ehlon to help me mount the tranquil mare. When I was comfortable, I saw that Éomer was still looking at me as though attempting to sight my soul. Did he still doubt us?

Finally he looked away, mounting his horse and turning briefly to Aragorn. "In hopes that we meet again, lord, ride well!"

And with a cry, Éomer bade his Riders onward, their horses circling around us momentarily before thundering past back toward the plain. The nearby trees of what I assumed was the Fangorn Forest stood silently to our left, their spiking tree tops piercing upward into the sky.

Anwyl shifted beneath me, ears pricking up as though listening to sounds beyond my hearing. I rubbed my hand over her flank, murmuring soothing words. She calmed instantly, but when I turned to Ehlon next to me, I could tell something dark was on her mind.

"What is it?" I asked, but she shook her head.

"It is nothing," she said. Our eyes met, and I knew she'd been thinking of the Hobbits. I closed my eyes briefly – if we were to find out Merry and Pippin had been slain, I wasn't sure if I would be able to go on. I had let them out of my protection, and now they could be dead.

A hand touched my shoulder.

It was Aragorn.

"Let us ride on," he said quietly, his hazel eyes piercing into mine. I nodded, and Ehlon gave me a sad look as she urged her horse forward.

I had felt them alive, had I not? Or had it been a falsity, a moment of excitement?

Tears stung at my eyes as I nudged Anwyl gently. She worked into a steady gallop after the others, her hooves pounding on the golden grass. The wind tore at my hair, and the jostling sent surges of fresh pain up my arm. I winced, but there was nothing I could do.

Ride on we would, to whatever end…

* * *

**Well, here is my first chapter of the second installment of the series. :) I'd like to thank you all for sticking with me. I do appreciate every single one of you for your interest in the story, and now that I am back from my trip to Europe (which was incredible), I will be uploading more frequently as long as time permits. **

**As you can see from the ending of this chapter, Amira is facing some heavy things: there is the question of whether or not Merry and Pippin are alive, and of course, her injury is worsening to some extent. Though we all know the fate of the two Hobbits, one can never know what just might happen when you have an author like me stirring things up...**

**Please review! They make me grin like a fool.**


	2. Into Fangorn's Clutches

**Chapter Eighteen: Into Fangorn's Clutches**

When I saw the black smoke rising on the horizon, my anguish was nearly choking. The Riders of Rohan had set alight the bodies of the Uruk-hai, and the chances of the Hobbits survival were becoming less and less as we rode closer.

The stench of the burning carcasses met my nose as we neared the site – a small hill of burnt grass. Bodies had been piled and set on fire; bits of flesh on skeletons and strewn armour and weaponry were all that remained now. I felt like I might vomit, but I did not. Anwyl seemed to feel my unease, for she whinnied sorrowfully as Aragorn leaped from his horse and searched the remains alongside Legolas. I dismounted Anwyl carefully, but it was useless.

The Hobbits were nowhere to be found.

I fell to my knees in horror and pain as the reality of their deaths set in. Never would they return again to their beloved Shire, slain at the hands of the ruthless Uruk-hai! I closed my eyes, trying not to think about the mode of their death. They might have been tortured…I stood up shakily, unwilling to think of anything at all. Merry and Pippin were dead, and we had no way of knowing if Frodo and Sam were alive either. And if they died, especially Frodo, then all hope would be lost…

I stumbled over a carcass and landed hard on the ground. I pushed myself upright, disgusted. I needed to get away from here before I succumbed to my debilitating grief. As I staggered down the hill, I heard the others call after me in concern, but I did not answer them or look behind me. It felt like an invisible hand was drawing me downward toward the monstrous and mysterious Fangorn. I stumbled again, but this time I stayed where I had fallen on the ground. My arm shrieked with pain, and dark blotches danced in front of my eyes as I lay still on the grass. My mind was numb. I could not move. It was like I had been struck by lightning.

I'm not proud to say I panicked. I wrenched my head to one side, clawing the grass like a wild animal. And this was the moment when I saw it.

Flashing a bright green and illuminant silver in the midday sun, a Lórien leaf lay curled on the trampled grass. I vaguely heard a horse galloping in my direction, but I could not look away from the image on the grass. Surely it was an illusion, a mirage of the mind? I stretched my hand out toward it, and when my fingers closed around its cool roundness, I knew that it was indeed real.

I stared at it in wonder, half expecting it might disappear at any moment.

Footsteps sounded nearby, and hands grasped my shoulders, roughly pulling me upright.

"Amira!" It was Ehlon, looking at me with wild eyes. The leaf had dropped to the ground, but it seemed she had not noticed.

"They're alive…" I whispered, slumping to the ground again when she let go of my shoulders.

Her eyes widened instantly, and her expression told me that she thought I was delusional.

"Ehlon, look!" I cried softly in triumph, holding up the Lórien leaf. She reached out quickly, turning it over and over in her hands. Her face registered shock and disbelief.

I felt my numbness fading as relief fell over me. "They're alive, Ehlon! One of them must have dropped it as they fled!"

Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli appeared at her side, and they were struck mute when they saw what was in her hand. In the next instant, Aragorn was searching the trampled grass.

"A hobbit lay here…and here, another," he said, gingerly touching the ground. He moved again, "…They crawled. Their hands were bound." He picked up a piece of rope, turning it over in his hands. "Their bonds were cut! They ran over here…" Aragorn moved a few feet away. "They were followed, and then…then here…The tracks lead away from the battle!"

Without another word, he moved quickly down the hillside toward the Fangorn.

Legolas smiled at me quickly. "There is still hope!" he murmured, moving away to mount his horse. Gimli patted my uninjured arm.

"Legolas is right, lass," he said comfortingly, and I met his deep brown eyes before he turned and hoisted himself up on the horse behind the Elf. Ehlon mounted her horse as well, riding up to me and nudging my shoulder with her knee. I looked up at her, and followed her eyes to Aragorn, who was standing at the entrance at Fangorn. Our eyes met again, and I felt my throat close.

We still weren't any further. The Hobbits might be alive, but the tales of Fangorn reminded me that they would be in danger at this very moment.

Ehlon nudged my shoulder with her knee again, drawing me out of my reverie. She smiled tightly, nodding toward my horse that was waiting nearby. I nodded back slowly, letting out the breath I'd unknowingly been holding.

I walked to Anwyl and pulled myself onto her back, feeling the pain in my arm again. I followed the others down to Aragorn, who was staring pensively into the darkness of the forest in front of him.

"Their tracks lead to the forest," he said without turning, "and they weren't alone."

I tensed. "Orcs are with them?" I asked quietly, dreading his answer. He looked at me briefly, and then nodded. He turned to the others.

"We will follow them, but be on your guard at all times," he warned quietly.

"Celeborn warned us not to go far into Fangorn," Legolas said, "I have heard nothing of this in my own land, save only songs that tell how the Onodrim, that Men call Ents, dwelt there long ago; for Fangorn is old, old even as the Elves would reckon it."

"Yes, it is old," Aragorn replied, "as old as the forest by the Barrow-downs, and it is far greater. Elrond says that the two are akin, the last strongholds of the mighty woods of the Elder Days, in which the Firstborn roamed while Men still slept. Yet Fangorn holds some secret of its own. What it is I do not know."

He called after his horse, and once he had mounted the chestnut steed again, he beckoned us to follow.

The horses did not like approaching Fangorn, it seemed, and I understand why once we had left the brightness of the golden plain behind us. The trees grew thick together, stretching upward as far as the eye could see. But it was the choking darkness that made me most uneasy. Certainly, it wasn't as dark as the Mines of Moria, but the coolness of the dark greenery swirling around us made me shiver. Despite this, a sheen of sweat formed on my forehead, and my skin prickled uncomfortably. The place was eerily silent, which did nothing to quell my increasing agitation. I felt as though my very breathing was far too loud in this soundless forest, and I wished I could draw my weapon as had the others once they had entered the forest. (I knew it would be hopeless, since my hand had been rendered mostly unusable.) Legolas rode directly next to me, his bow in his hand as his keen eyes darted about. He clearly wasn't more comfortable than I. I breathed carefully through my nose, but the stuffy air seemed to be as old as the forest itself.

Aragorn stopped suddenly, and brought his finger up to his lips. We stayed stock still, and all I could hear was our breathing and the horses'. Not one other sound penetrated the silence. I shivered again, wiping away the droplets of sweat that continued to form on my forehead. Ehlon was looking at me worriedly, but I gave her a small nod to show her that I was fine.

When the tall Ranger dismounted and began to survey the ground for clues, I knew that we were at the end of our trail. I let out a weary sigh, watching Aragorn straighten from his crouch.

"I do not understand," he murmured, "The trail was unbroken until here."

"Do you think we might split up to search for them, Aragorn?" Gimli asked, hefting his axe.

He shook his head. "Nay," he said quickly, looking around at the forest surrounding us. "It is too dangerous. I have been in this forest before a long time ago, and it is easy to become lost."

Ehlon spoke up quietly. "Perhaps we might ask Amira to see what she can sense…"

All turned to me, faces expectant. "Are you strong enough?" Aragorn asked, his tone gentle. I nodded, giving him a small smile. Then I closed my eyes and allowed the raw power of the ancient forest to enter me for the first time. It was like a river rushing forward – fading images and whispers in forgotten tongues echoed in my mind as I attempted to stretch my senses. They were distracting. I managed to push them away, allowing myself to push outward in a wide circle. I felt the powerful energy of each tree as I did so, but I sensed nothing more. I stretched as far as I could go, and that was when I felt something strange. It wasn't the Hobbits, I was sure of it, and although it felt distinctly inhuman, it wasn't Orc-like either.

I pulled back, my heart hammering my chest. Whatever it was, it had taken away a lot of my energy to locate.

"What was it?" Aragorn whispered, bringing me back to the task at hand. Looking at each of our broken Fellowship, I saw that they were all tense.

"I do not know," I admitted, and then sorrow took hold of me as I relayed the rest of what I had sensed: "The Hobbits are not here, and although I felt something strange, neither are the Orcs that might have accompanied them."

Ehlon held up her Ring, which was glowing softly in the dark. "I have felt something as well, although it is not as strong as it might be if something evil was near."

Legolas looked about. "Something might be lurking in the distance, and I do not like to think of what it might be."

"Or what it might do when it finds us," Gimli muttered, rubbing his thumb thoughtfully over his axe blade.

Aragorn pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "I am at an impasse," he said at length, "I cannot say where they have gone. Their tracks have disappeared completely, and as Amira said, they are nowhere in the distance that she can sense." He looked genuinely weary now. "We ought to make camp here, to think a while before we decide on our course."

Gimli looked startled. "In this forest? I don't think I could rest in this gloom if my life depended on it!"

Aragorn gave him a wry look before dismounting. The rest followed suit, but I stayed where I was, transfixed by all that had just transpired and what it might mean for the future. Ehlon touched my knee, and I managed a small smile. Legolas also appeared at my side, and before I could protest, he helped me down from atop Anwyl.

"Thank-you," I said breathlessly as he set me down.

He smiled, "For you, Amira, it is a pleasure." And then his smile faded when he lifted his hand from my injured arm, my blood transferring onto his fingers. "You're bleeding!" he murmured, his brow furrowed in concern.

Ehlon drew me aside then. Wordlessly she pushed me down with my back against a tree. Crouching next to me, she rolled up my sleeve, sucking in a breath when she saw the bloodied bandage. Her eyes met mine: "This horse riding was welcome for the legs, and unwelcome for this arm, it seems."

I nodded, hissing in pain when she began to unroll the bandage itself. I was scared to look upon the mess I knew that was my arm, but in the end, I couldn't help myself. Indeed, it was worse now than before. But Ehlon said nothing. Reaching to her side, she slid out her dagger, cutting a strip from her white tunic before I could protest. I flinched and bit my lip when she splashed some water over the raw wound. I felt tears prick my eyes when she began to clean away the blood. Carefully, Ehlon wrapped the new bandage around my arm, tucking it in securely and unrolling my sleeve over it when she was satisfied with her handiwork.

Leaning back, she gave me a meaningful look. "How does it feel?"

I twisted my arm experimentally, and was met with a twang of pain. "Much better, thank-you," I said. She just kept staring at me, as though attempting to read my thoughts. Finally, she stood up. Aragorn, I saw, had succeeded in making a small fire, and they were staring pensively into the flames. The trees, however, did not appear to like the heat of the fire on their cool boughs. They shook and trembled at the feel of the fire, and after another long moment, they settled into place.

Ehlon reached into her pack. "Lembas?" she offered quietly, and we all had our share. I think I lost count of the times I had uttered a thankful prayer to Lady Galadriel for her gifts, for the lembas never failed to restore our energy and cheer. Now, I hoped it would point us in the direction our dear Hobbit friends…

* * *

I fell asleep with my back against the tree. Exhaustion took over, and I could not control it. When I awoke, it was still dark, but how could one truly determine the time of day in such a gloom? I blinked away the sleep in my eyes, watching Aragorn stir the glowing embers of the fire with a stick. Legolas, Gimli, and Ehlon were all awake as well, staring at the fire. I leaned forward, my back sore from leaning against the tree.

Their eyes instantly turned to me. I was about to speak when an overwhelming power touched me. I shut my mouth, my entire body freezing in place. I pushed outward in a circle to determine the source of the power, and suddenly Legolas jumped up, an arrow already notched on his bow.

A bent figure had appeared on the far reach of the fire's bouncing light. Aragorn stood, though more carefully than the Elf. "Come and enjoy the fire's warmth, old man," he called out softly, but the figure of the old man had disappeared.

"That was not a mere old man," I said, and I realized my voice was shaking slightly.

Aragorn's eyes shot to mine. "Who was it, Amira?"

I shook my head in frustration. "I do not know. He was powerful, very powerful. The same energy field that I sensed earlier in the forest, if I am not mistaken…"

Gimli took hold of his axe suddenly. "It was Saruman, lurking about then, wasn't it? Searching us out, no doubt!"

Legolas sighed, putting away his arrow and sitting down again. Aragorn remained standing.

The Dwarf huffed, sitting down also. "He had a staff and a pointed hat. Who else would it be? I knew this forest was dangerous from the moment I stepped into it. If the Hobbits encountered him, then they must be in trouble. It seems to me that it would be unlikely that their entrance would go unnoticed, either by Saruman or others in the forest."

Ehlon rolled her neck to the side. "I think you're right about the Hobbits, Gimli, but if it had been Saruman, then would he not have tried to destroy us?"

Aragorn turned back toward the fire. "His cunningness is not to be underestimated, Ehlon. He might have easily surprised us, but I think if it were him, he was more likely spying on our location."

"Or it might be an illusion," Legolas put in, looking around distrustfully at the trees.

I moved closer to the fire, feeling that all-too-familiar energy prickling at my back again. "It seemed too powerful to be a mere illusion," I said, feeling drained, "Whoever and whatever it was, it is a force to be reckoned with, I think."

Ehlon spoke up then. "Amira is right. Look at our Rings." She held up her hand, where her Ring was glowing a bright silver. I looked to my own sister Ring, and saw that it too was giving off a light of its own.

Aragorn frowned and let out a slow exhale. "Let us hope that Pippin and Merry have found a way out of this forest, but until some small light appears in the morning, let us get what rest we can." He caught eye, giving me a serious look. "Especially you, Amira. Sleep."

I smiled a little, and took my cloak from my pack and placed it on the ground. With that, I lay down by the fire, feeling exhaustion take over me once more...

* * *

Ehlon shook me awake some hours later, and the forest did not seem near as gloomy as the day before. I forced myself upright, and hissed when I put weight on my injured arm in the process. Gimli handed me some lembas, and I took it from him gratefully.

"The horses are gone," Ehlon said quietly, and I nearly spat out my mouthful. "They disappeared overnight, although there is no trace of where they might have gone."

I was stunned at this new development.

Gimli grumbled, rubbing his beard. "Saruman's doing, no doubt."

There was a shout from nearby, and everyone had their hands on their respective weapons when Aragorn ran into the circle. There was a smile on his rugged face.

"I have found a trail," he said, "it leads to a nearby stream, where they drank and bathed their feet but two days ago."

I felt my heart lift, and then I remembered that much can happen within the time span of two days.

"Lead us, Aragorn!" Legolas said, and once we had gathered our packs, we walked through the trees after our leader. The trees humbled away slightly from the small stream that appeared in a grove of arbutus trees, and the smell of clean air was refreshing. Aragorn pointed to the smudged footprints in the mud, and I smiled when I saw that they were unmistakably left by the Hobbits.

Gimli leaned on his axe. "And now where have they gone?"

But Aragorn was already following the trail away from the stream.

Ehlon cracked a smile. "That way, apparently."

Gimli gave her a narrow-eyed look as he brushed past her, and Ehlon merely put her hand on my back as we walked after him and Legolas.

* * *

Perhaps a half hour later we stopped again, the trail of footsteps few and far between now. Aragorn sighed in frustration. "Our road is at yet another end," he murmured, leaning against a tree as he sipped water from his flask. We were all silent as we considered the enormity of where we were. We were travelling deeper and deeper into Fangorn, and further and further, it seemed, from finding Merry and Pippin.

"But we cannot give up, Aragorn," Gimli spoke up gruffly, "We've come this far!"

Aragorn turned to the Dwarf. "I never said we were giving up, Gimli. I merely meant that the signs of their passing are becoming further and further apart, and now there is nothing yet again. It is all very strange."

Legolas was looking at me. "Do you think you might be able to sense what is around us, Amira?"

I nodded, and closed my eyes. Expanding my awareness outwards once more, I felt that same presence as the day before. Pulling back in shock, I came back to myself, breathing hard. Gimli nudged my side with the butt of his axe.

"You alright, lass?" he asked.

I nodded quickly, my heartbeat returning to normal. "It is the powerful figure we saw last night, I believe, although much closer than when I'd sensed him the day before," I answered.

Aragorn's brow furrowed in concentration, and then he shook himself and said: "Be on your guard, then, for if it is Saruman we will be against unmatchable strength."

And this was when I felt it, the prickling agitation crawling up my back. But this time it was worse. Whatever it was, it was coming closer.

Ehlon drew her sword, and I could tell she had felt it too. "He's coming near!" she hissed to Aragorn, who tensed and drew Andúril. We stood shoulder to shoulder close together in the small clearing, Legolas with an arrow notched on his bow and Gimli with his axe raised. Ehlon had her arm protectively in front of me, her body ready to act at any moment.

But nothing came. A minute or two passed, and nothing happened. A leaf from one of the trees fell, and still nothing happened. Gimli lowered his axe with a growl, "Perhaps the varmint changed his mind."

Legolas's eyes darted around carefully. "Or perhaps he wants to draw us into a trap."

Aragorn sighed, lowering his sword. "Whatever we do in this forest, it seems a meeting with this presence will be unavoidable. Let us continue on, but be ready with your weapons."

We continued on, but I did not like this situation one bit. We were all ill at ease, I think, but especially Gimli, who looked about fearfully. Indeed, it seemed that the trees were becoming larger, darker, and more ominous as we moved on. A strange wind moved through the boughs, and a low murmuring could be heard over the squeaking of the wood. Legolas paused suddenly, and I bumped into his back. Gimli lifted his axe higher: "I don't like this forest at all," he muttered, mostly to himself, "Full of evil things!" The murmuring grew in volume, and we all stopped as the trees began to shake.

Gimli's eyes darted about in fright. "Lovely forest, I said, a beautiful lovely forest!" he cried, searching for words, "Charming forest!" Aragorn chuckled.

"The trees are talking to one another!" Legolas whispered, his eyes bright. The murmuring had lessened, and now it had formed an undertone. Aragorn began walking again, leading us upward to a rocky incline. It was Legolas who stopped us again.

"Look!" he exclaimed in an undertone, "Down in the wood, back in the way we have just come. Cannot you see him, passing from tree to tree?"

I whirled around, and just as Legolas had said, the figure was walking through the wood toward us. I squinted, wishing for the one thousandth time that I had Elven eyesight. It appeared that he was a beggar man, old and bent over. He walked with the assistance of a twisted staff, but his weary gait did nothing to dissolve my anxiety. It was his energy field – powerful, even menacing – that frightened me the most.

Aragorn had moved to the front now as we watched the old man step closer and closer. We were all tense as we watched, but Aragorn did not signal to draw our weapons. I squinted again. The man was wearing a pointed hat, indeed, which left his face in the shadows.

Gimli jerked suddenly, nudging Legolas as he shouted hoarsely: "Your bow, Legolas! Bend it! Get ready! It is Saruman. Do not let him speak, or put a spell on us! Shoot first!"

Legolas obeyed immediately, but he did not release an arrow. Gimli shook with disbelief.

"Why are you waiting?" he hissed at the Elf, and Aragorn touched the Dwarf's shoulder.

"Legolas is right," he murmured lowly, "We may not shoot an old man so, at unawares and unchallenged, whatever fear or doubt be on us. Watch and wait!"

And indeed we waited with baited breath, following the man as he moved closer to us. At last he broke into the clearing before the incline up the rocky hill, and it was here that he stopped. I felt a sudden pain in my head, and it was as though my very skull might implode from the pressure. I sucked in a painful breath, struggling to focus my attention on the old man a mere ten feet away.

"Well met!" a voice came from under the hood. "And what may you be doing in these parts? An Elf, a Dwarf, a Man, and two Ladies, all clad in Elvish fashion. No doubt there is a tale worth hearing behind it all…"

Aragorn replied calmly, "Might we know your name, and then hear what it is that you have to say to us? The morning passes, and we have an errand that will not wait."

The old man chuckled briefly, and his voice held amusement that put my body on edge. "What may you be doing, and what tale can you tell of yourselves? As for my name!" He paused suddenly, laughing to himself. "Have you not guessed it already? You have heard it before, I think…But come now, what of your tale?"

My mind was working quickly now. We had heard of his name before? If this man was not Saruman, then who might he be?

Aragorn was silent, and we followed his silence and remained mute as well.

The old man stepped forward until he was only a few feet away. "Happily I know something of it. You are tracking the footsteps of two young Hobbits, I believe…" I started at his words, "Well, they climbed up here the day before yesterday, and they met someone that they did not expect. Does that comfort you? And now you would like to know where they were taken? Well, well, maybe I can give some news about that. But why are we standing? Your errand, you see, is no longer as urgent as you thought." The man paused, and gestured to the low boulders nearby. "Let us sit down and be more at ease."

Aragorn relaxed, and we followed him forward toward the stones. Something within me screamed that something wasn't as it appeared. The old man eased himself onto a stone, and in doing so, it drew apart his heavy grey cloak, revealing the pure white linen beneath.

Gimli sighted this and gave a shout. "Saruman!" he cried, leaping toward the old man with his axe raised menacingly, "Speak! Tell us where you have hidden our friends! What have you done with them? Speak, or I will make a dint in your hat that even a wizard will find it hard to deal with!"

It all happened quickly from that moment onward…

The old man sprang to his feet instantly, leaping to the top of a large rock. Standing there, he towered above us, flinging his grey cloak and hat away from him as though they were nuisances. The sun shone on his white robes, and he lifted his staff toward Gimli, who watched his axe sail from his hand and land with a thump on the grass. I backed away in shock. Aragorn's sword, which had drawn as soon as the man had moved, stayed motionless in his hand until now, when it suddenly shot through with flames. With a yelp, he dropped it onto the grass. Legolas yelled, shooting an arrow high into the air above the man's head. It vanished instantly, swallowed by a flash of flame.

I staggered backward as the truth fell upon me like a large stone. Could it be? No!

"Mithrandir!" Legolas shouted, and the man's blue eyes twinkled.

"Well met, I say to you again, Legolas!" he said happily.

I fell to my knees in the green grass. "Gandalf?" I heard my own voice gasp out his name from a distance. His hair was white like the first snow of spring, glimmering beneath the sun like the robes upon his back. His eyes danced with a new power, the power that had been restored by the staff in his hand. I blinked my eyes rapidly, feeling as though someone had struck me over the head. My limbs were weighted with a heaviness I had never felt before, and my breath seemed to still in my lungs.

Aragorn swallowed visibly. "You fell-" he breathed out, his disbelief choking his words.

Gandalf smiled gently at him, "Through fire and water, from the lowest dungeon to the highest peak, I fought with the Balrog of Morgoth." Here his tone darkened, "Until at last I threw down my enemy and smote his ruin upon the mountainside. Darkness took me, and I strayed out of thought and time." He paused, his voice softer now. "Stars wheeled overhead, and every day was as long as a life age in the Earth. But it was not the end. I felt life in me again." He drew himself up taller, standing before us proudly yet comforting. "I've been sent back, until my task is done."

Kneeling, Aragorn picked up his sword. "Gandalf!" he murmured in wonder, a smile etching itself on his face, "Beyond all hope you return to us in our need!"

Gandalf appeared quizzical. "Gandalf?" he repeated, as though he had never heard if before, "yes, that was the name." He smiled, "I was Gandalf."

Gimli stared up at him from where he too had fallen onto his knees.

Gandalf turned to him. "Get up, my good Gimli!" he exclaimed, and the Dwarf laughed and stood. "No blame to you and no harm done to me. Indeed my friends, none of you have any weapons that could hurt me. Be merry! We meet again, at the turn of the tide. The great storm is coming, but the tide has turned…"

And then my Mentor turned to me, stepping down from the stone and walking slowly toward me. He stopped in front of me, and we looked at each other for a long moment. He held out his hand, and it was like a dream when I reached out and took it. He lifted me up with surprising strength, touching my blood soaked sleeve.

"You have been through much, my child, but indeed the tide has turned," he said with a smile, and I threw my arms around his neck, ignoring the pain that jolted through my arm. He chuckled warmly, returning my tight embrace. I let him go after a moment. I found that I could not speak; a lump of stone seemed to be lodged in my throat.

"Gandalf!" Gimli was saying, "But you are all in white!"

My Mentor smiled again. "Yes, I am white now. Indeed, I _am _Saruman, one might almost say, Saruman as he should have been. But come now, tell me of yourselves! I have passed through fire and deep water, since we parted. I have forgotten that I thought I knew, and learned again much that I had forgotten. I can see many things far off, but many things that are close at hand I cannot see."

We sat down on the grassy hill, and Aragorn narrated all that transpired after Gandalf's fall into the abyss in the Mines of Moria. He sighed when he heard of Boromir's fall, and then he sighed again when he learned of my awakened magic. He looked at me with a broad smile.

"So at last the time has come," he murmured, gazing at me for a long moment. Then he shook his head slightly, straightening his shoulders as Aragorn continued.

Soon, Aragorn halted and asked: "And Gandalf, tell us of the Hobbits. Where have they gone? We have hunted them for days, and our hearts are heavy."

Gandalf slid his hand over his staff as he contemplated the Man's words. "Fangorn has treated them well," he said slowly.

Gimli spoke up: "I thought Fangorn was dangerous!"

My Mentor shot him a sharp look. "Dangerous!" he cried indignantly, "And so am I, very dangerous: more dangerous than anything you will ever meet, unless you are brought alive before the seat of the Dark Lord. And Aragorn is dangerous, and Legolas is dangerous as well as Lady Ehlon," Gandalf glanced quickly at me, "Our dear Amira is also dangerous, though things beautiful and rare often do not seem to have underlying peril hidden beneath the skin. You are beset with dangers, Gimli son of Glóin; for you are dangerous yourself, in your own fashion. Certainly the forest of Fangorn is perilous – not at least to those that are too ready with their axes; and Fangorn himself, he is perilous too, yet he is wise and kindly nonetheless." The wizard paused momentarily, "But now his long slow wrath is brimming over, and it will soon be running like a flood; but its tide is turned against Saruman and the axes of Isengard. A thing is about to happen which has not happened since the Elder Days: the Ents are going to wake up and find that they are strong."

At the end of his speech, Gandalf's voice was filled with quiet enthusiasm.

"What will they do?" Legolas asked quietly, his face revealing his astonishment.

"I do not know," Gandalf admitted, "I do not think they know themselves."

I frowned, "And where does that leave Merry and Pippin? Did they meet one of these Ents?"

Gandalf turned to me, his clear blue eyes keen as they met mine. There was something otherworldly about these eyes, but still, I did not fail to detect the warmth and caring within them. In this way, the wizard had not changed. I relaxed slightly, and he gave me an almost imperceptible nod before beginning to speak: "They were brought to Fangorn, dear Amira, and their coming was like the falling of small stones that starts an avalanche in the mountains." Here Gandalf nodded, more to himself than anyone else, "Even as we talk, I hear the first rumblings. Saruman had best not be caught away from home when the dam bursts!"

Aragorn's eyes narrowed slightly, and then he sighed, clapping Gandalf on the shoulder affectionately. "In one thing you have not changed, dear friend," he said, "You still speak in riddles!"

Gandalf laughed, and I couldn't help but do the same. When the moment was over, he sighed and turned to me. "They are safe, my dear, very safe. Far safer, indeed, than they would be if they followed with us now!" He paused, and I knew better than to interject with another question before his line of thought was complete. At last, he spoke again: "Indeed, in Treebeard's hands they are utterly safe."

Legolas started, gazing at the wizard in surprise. "Treebeard, you say?"

"Yes, Legolas," my Mentor answered slowly, standing lithely. "A dweller of Fangorn, he is, and a key to the burst of change which shall soon descend." He smiled suddenly, as though enjoying a private joke that no else would understand.

There was a huff from my left. Gimli stepped forward. "But where _are_ they? If you do not tell us soon, I might suspect you are playing with our minds, wizard."

"Patience, dear Gimli," Gandalf chuckled, "I was beginning to tell you, if you would only let an old man talk without desiring to throw his battle axe at him."

The Dwarf looked down, humbled, grumbling: "I thought you were Saruman."

"I thought as much," Gandalf said, in a voice which held no anger whatsoever. "Indeed, you could almost call me Saruman, for I am he, at least, Saruman as he should have been." He hesitated, and then sighed for the hundredth time. "Young Pippin and Merry are with Treebeard and the Ents, but that is all I can say for the time being, I'm afraid, for I do not know it all myself."

"Ents?" Aragorn repeated, a hint of awe on his face.

"And you say they are to wake up, Gandalf?" I questioned.

He nodded, and then he peered up at the sky, "The morning is wearing away. Soon we must go."

The Ranger stood, and the rest of us followed suit. "Do we go to find our friends and to see Treebeard?" he asked, voicing all of our thoughts.

To my surprise, Gandalf shook his white head. "No, that is not the road that you must take. I have spoken words of hope. But only of hope. Hope is not victory." He looked at each of us solemnly, "War is upon us and all our friends, a war in which only the use of the Ring could give us surety of victory. It fills me with great sorrow and great fear; for much shall be destroyed and all may be lost. I am Gandalf, Gandalf the White, but Black is mightier still…"

A hush had fallen over the small hill, and we stood motionless, chilled to the bone by his words. He turned suddenly: "Come, Aragorn son of Arathorn! Do not regret your choice in the valley of the Emyn Muil, nor call it a vain pursuit. You chose amid doubts the path that seemed right: the choice was just, and it has been rewarded. For so we have met in time, who otherwise might have met too late. But the quest of your companions is over. Your next journey is marked by your given word." Gandalf put a hand on Aragorn's shoulder. "You must go to Edoras and seek out Théoden in his hall. For you are needed. The light of Andúril must now be uncovered in the battle for which it has so long waited. The war is in Rohan, and worse evil: it goes ill with Théoden."

"Then are we not to see the merry young Hobbits again?" Legolas asked slowly.

"Who knows? Have patience. Go where you must go, and hope! It was more than mere chance that brought Pippin and Merry to Fangorn. A great power has been sleeping here for many long years." He paused, holding up his staff. "To Edoras! I go thither also…"

"Yes," Aragorn said, a smile resting on his face, "we will set out together. And this I also say: you are our captain and our banner. The Dark Lord has Nine. But we have One, mightier than they – the White Rider. He has passed through the fire and the abyss, and they shall fear him. We will go where he leads."

Gandalf smiled in return, and with the sweeping of his white cloak, he began to walk down the hillside. Slowly, we followed his footsteps, leaving aside our dogged hunt and readying ourselves to face a greater evil still….

* * *

**Well, as we all expected, this chapter encompasses the return of Gandalf, now Gandalf the White. :) I hope none of you are bored with my writing style, or are becoming annoyed by Amira's point of view. For some reason these days I feel more self-conscious about Amira's character development, and I hope she does not come across as whiny or weak. What do you think? Please share your thoughts on Amira's character development as it would help me greatly...**

**As I have hinted at previously, I am at an impasse in this story in regard to where to take it. I have 22 chapters for this second Volume, none of which I am certain will be any decent to post, but I believe I will anyhow. It has been a while since I have started writing, and now that I am going over my chapters editing things, I wonder if I am taking Amira's journey in the right direction, if I should scrap my designs for her entirely. However, time will tell. I thank you all for reading! **


	3. To Edoras and the Spy of Saruman

**Chapter Nineteen: To Edoras and the Spy of Saruman**

The way out of Fangorn was far quicker than it had been in entering it. Gandalf led us at a fast pace, his white robes shining even amidst the gloom of the heavy trees. The trees were murmuring to each other, and I could feel their inherent strength and power stronger now as I passed them by. Their boughs trembled when I accidently touched them, and it seemed that they were reaching out to me as I walked onward.

Finally, I stumbled in my attempt to bypass a branch that had curled around my wrist.

"What enchantment is this, Gandalf?" I asked quietly, a strange feeling settling over me. The trees were not evil, no, but their sphere of energy was disconcerting.

My Mentor turned for a moment, and smiled. "They are sensing your growing power, Amira, just as they are awakening to their own strength. They reach out to you now to feel if you are indeed real."

I sidestepped another slender bough, only to fall against a trunk. My hands landed on the rough bark of the tree, and suddenly I could feel the tree rumbling as it emitted a soft sigh. I jerked backward, more out of shock than fear. Ehlon tugged me closer to her, all eyes on the tree as it sighed again, stretching its branches above itself like a Man yawning after a long sleep. And then two great eyes blinked open half-way up the tree itself, its black orbs trained directly on me.

A mouth moved beneath it. "Oh," it said in a slow and deep male voice. And then the branches crept in my direction, halting when one curled around my waist. I stayed stock still, staring into the Ent's steadfast eyes, my heart beating quickly. "The spirit one has returned…"

Gandalf stepped forward. "Greetings, Ent," he said in a strong voice.

The Ent's eyes flashed toward him in surprise. "The wizard…" he murmured slowly, "Mithrandir."

My Mentor smiled, "You have awakened at a dark time, Ent, but you have also come at a time when your power is far greater than ever."

Another of the Ent's branches coiled around my wrist. "This one…" he drew out, eyes finding me again, "this one is the greatest power."

Gandalf sighed, "Indeed, but there are other powers are work, Ent, and hers alone cannot save Middle Earth from Sauron. Follow Treebeard to Isengard, Ent, and you will see."

The Ent shook himself suddenly, his hold loosening on my slightly. "Treebeard? He has awakened too?" He let out a low hum. "Well…I will go with him. But I hope," and here the Ent touched a branch to the top of my head, "I hope I may see this one again…"

"With luck, you may," Gandalf agreed, and then he chuckled warmly, "but do let her go, for we have a journey to begin."

The Ent looked at me for another long moment, and then he withdrew his branches. I realized I was shaking slightly, but I soon forgot my shock when another amazing thing happened: with a sigh, the Ent tugged at his roots, pulling them from the ground. Shaking off the black earth – and spraying us in the process – the Ent turned and slowly began to walk on his roots, as though trees had always walked. Only in tales had I known such miracles could occur!

Ehlon pulled me against her protectively, sensing my dazed state. "Are you alright?" she asked, looking after the Ent with a distrustful expression on her face. I tapped her arm, giving her a reassuring smile.

"I'm fine," I said truthfully, and she reluctantly allowed me to pull away.

Gandalf smiled, "Come! Let us continue…"

And continue we did, the branches of the awakening trees reaching out to me until we broke free of the gloom of Fangorn, returning to the light of the Plains.

* * *

The sun was blinding when we stepped onto the grassland. We staggered for a moment before regaining our sight. Gimli especially seemed happy to be out of the confining forest, and although I did not blame him for his relief, Fangorn had been much less frightening and perilous than I had expected. Or perhaps we merely had been fortunate to have not encountered anything evil…

I refocused my attention on the conversation taking place between Aragorn and Gandalf. The Ranger had asked my Mentor of the conclusion of his story, and Gandalf was now smiling as he led us quickly up the hillside and onward through the flat grasslands of Rohan. I quickened my pace so I could hear.

"Ah, yes," he said slowly, and then he took a deep breath. "Naked I was sent back, and I lay upon the mountaintop. The tower behind me was crumbled to dust, the ruined stair choked with burned and broken stone. I was alone, forgotten, without escape on the hard horn of the world. Faint to my ears came the gathered rumour of all lands: the springing and dying, the song and weeping, and the slow everlasting groan of burdened stone. And so at the last, Gwaihir the Windlord, my friend at need, who rescued me from the tower of Orthanc, found me again, and took me up and bore me away to Lothlórien. For it was by the command of the Lady Galadriel that he came looking for me."

Gandalf caught my gaze and smiled softly before continuing his tale. "Thus it was that I came to Caras Galadhon and found you gone. I tarried there in the ageless time of that land where days bring healing. Healing I found, and I was clothed in white. Counsel I gave, and counsel took. And by and by I set out by strange roads to find you, and message I bring to some of you." The wizard paused for a moment, as though carefully rearranging his thoughts.

We waited impatiently until Gandalf murmured something under his breath before turning to Aragorn, who was at his right side. "To Aragorn I was bidden to say this:

`_Where now are the Dúnedain, Elessar, Elessar?__  
__Why do thy kinsfolk wander afar?__  
__Near is the hour when the Lost should come forth,__  
__And the Grey Company ride from the North.__  
__But dark is the path appointed for thee:__  
__The Dead watch the road that leads to the Sea._'"

Aragorn's eyes clouded over briefly before clearing again, and I wondered what those words had brought forth to his mind. I did not understand them myself; I began to think it was well that I did not. Instead, as Gandalf turned to Legolas, I tensed as I awaited whatever Lady Galadriel might have directed at me.

Gandalf continued: "To Legolas she sent this word:

`_Legolas Greenleaf long under tree__  
__In joy thou hast lived. Beware of the Sea!__  
__If thou hearest the cry of the gull on the shore,__  
__Thy heart shall then rest in the forest no more_.'"

And then he fell silent, only sighing after a moment as he picked up his pace. I exchanged a worried glance with Ehlon, who seemed to be watching me carefully ever since the Ent reached out to me in Fangorn. Her eyes gave away nothing, but I knew somehow that she too was uneasy with Gandalf's sudden silence.

Finally, Gimli jogged closer to Gandalf. "Then she sent _me_ no message?" he asked, his voice, for the first time, almost boyish. I saw Legolas and Aragorn grin for a moment from the corner of my eye.

"Hm?" Gandalf murmured, looking at the Dwarf in surprise. "Your pardon, Gimli! I was pondering the meaning of her first two messages. But indeed she sent word for you: "'To Gimli son of Glóin,' she said, `give his Lady's greeting. Lockbearer, wherever thou goest my thought goes with thee. But have a care to lay thine axe to the right tree!'"

To my surprise, Gimli's face reddened beneath the burly growth of his beard. And then, as he weighed the Lady's words, he smiled brightly, as though he had been blessed by the Valar themselves. "Ah!" he sighed, "It is a happy hour now that you have returned to us, Gandalf."

Gandalf smiled at the exuberant Dwarf before he turned to Ehlon, who was regarding him with a weary, doubtful expression. "To Ehlon, the Lady bid me speak thus:

'_If there is no strength in Men or Elves,_

_Strength can be found yet only in our selves:_

_Do not despair, young one, thy heart is true_

_Un-whole only until thy one fear is through.'" _

Ehlon ground her teeth at the end of his speech, and I looked at her in alarm. I touched her arm. She bristled, but then relaxed, breathing out. I stared at her, wishing I could pick her thoughts from her mind. She shook her head, but before I could ask of her response, Gandalf was speaking again.

"And last, but surely not of least importance in the mind of the Lady, to Amira she wished me to tell thus:

_A power unbidden lies within thee, but withhold your fears!_

_Thou shalt be strong against the One who peers;_

_Unto thy heart there is nothing as great,_

_Embrace and trust that which thou will create. _

When his voice faded away, taken by the wind, I felt my mind reeling. Whatever could Lady Galadriel be referring to? She was speaking of the magic rising within me, surely, but the other lines confused me greatly. Knowing the nature of Galadriel, these things she was speaking of would likely become clear in the future. Still, though, I wanted to know!

Aragorn shook his head in wonder, and I couldn't keep myself from grinning at last. Gandalf looked at me, his eyes twinkling. "But let us quicken our pace to Edoras!" And with that, he stopped walking, seeming to be gazing far out over the plains. The rest of us halted as well, greatly confused. What was the wizard up to now? He pursed his lips, whistling echoingly across the plains. Twice he did so, and then he fell silent, his keen eyes watching ahead for something only he could know to expect.

I sighed, about to ask of his actions when suddenly I heard it, the unmistakable sound of a whinnying horse. Gandalf smile widened. Squinting into the light, I could make out the blotchy shapes of several horses on the horizon. I turned to my Mentor, stunned. He met my eyes.

"Shadowfax, the lord of horses comes…" he murmured as the thundering of hooves sounded closer and closer. My eyes widened. Another whinny could be heard as the horses drew nearer, and soon they were upon us. They circled around us, snorting and neighing softly as they did, following the lead of the large white horse. Gandalf held out his hand, and the white horse stopped in front of him, his flanks shimmering beneath the sun. "Well met, Shadowfax!" the wizard beamed, "Well met! I see you have rounded up some friends…" He patted the horse's noble muzzle affectionately. A tan coloured horse nudged my back, and I turned toward her, rubbing down her muzzle. I watched a grey horse nudge Ehlon similarly, as well as two other horses for Aragorn and Legolas.

Gandalf exchanged a few more quiet words with the lord of the horses, and then he swung up onto Shadowfax's broad back. "Your horses from the Rohirrim are gone, but let these from the wild plains carry you well," he shouted, as he was already beginning to ride away. My horse nudged me again, as though reminding me that I had a journey to undertake. I smiled sadly – I would miss Anwyl, to whatever end she had found. I leaned gratefully against the tan mare as I collected my thoughts and my strength. Walking through Fangorn had been jarring on my arm, and it shrieked now with new, unparalleled pain. With a grimace, I pulled myself up onto her back, and as soon as I had done so, she was galloping on the plains after Gandalf and Shadowfax…

* * *

We rode on for hours without stopping. The day went by as quickly as the grass beneath our horses' hooves, as the wind passing through our hair. My eyes and throat felt like parchment when the sun began to set, but I knew time was of the essence. I licked my cracked lips and shifted my position on my horse. I was ever grateful for her service to me, for I do not know how much longer I could have run with my injury. Certainly, it had improved somewhat, but it was at this stretch of our journey that I was happy to have a steed carrying me across the rolling lands of Rohan.

When Gandalf finally called for a momentary rest, I realized I had nearly slipped into unconsciousness. I attempted to conceal my exhaustion when water was passed around, but Legolas noticed immediately.

"Amira! You are weakening…" he murmured, his voice alarmed. He touched my wounded arm, and when his fingers pulled back, I saw the red hue of my own blood colouring his skin. The Elf met my eyes, and his were wide.

Ehlon had already moved closer. "What is this, Legolas?" And then her eyes fell upon my arm, and she let out an exhale. "The wound is only worsening…" she murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind her air before bending over my arm. She tightened the bandages slightly, and straightened up. Her face was grim.

Gimli, behind Legolas, patted my knee comfortingly. "Edoras shouldn't be far away, lass. They'll have healers there to count on."

Ehlon frowned deeply, her gaze still on my injury. "It is leagues to Edoras. She should have been attended to days ago, but it was all we could do…" she trailed off, and our eyes met. A strong emotion burned in her eyes for a moment before she looked away.

I touched her thigh. "I'm fine, Ehlon," I assured her quietly, just as Gandalf called us back to our task ahead. Her grey eyes were stormy, and she nodded slowly, placing her hand briefly over the one that rested on her thigh. With that, we urged our horses onward.

* * *

On and on we rode over the rolling hills, now washed with the dim light of twilight, around the jutting grey rocks and boulders. Rainclouds had settled on the horizon, and were on a steady march toward us; thickening and twisting in their black wrath. My weary mind wondered if it was a sign of the growing power of Mordor, but I did not allow myself to think more of it. We were riding by the light of the moon and stars now, and keeping myself securely on my horse required nearly all of my attention and strength. More than once I had almost dropped into exhausted unconscious, but had immediately snapped out of it upon the horse's movement beneath me. I focused instead on the lay of the land before me, stretching out to as far as my eye could see. Doing my best to ignore the increasing pain in the Orc wound, I looked up at the bejewelled sky, the rounded moon lending its light amid the clusters of crystalline stars…

I had not realized I had slipped into unconsciousness until I saw the images flickering in front of my eyes: flames roaring amid seeping lava, bubbling and steaming. The image zoomed backward to reveal a mountain burning from within, and then an unmistakable form appeared above it: the Eye! Whispering in Black Speech, it reached out to me, expanding in size until it felt as though it were burning my eyes with its heat.

_I will find you…You cannot hide. Your Power, it will corrupt you – even kill you – for you know not what to do with it. I will find you and draw your Power like water from sand. Useless mortal wench! Power such as yours should not have found such a weakling._

Pain erupted in my arm, burning and searing as though lava ran through my veins. My mouth opened to scream, but no sound came out. The Eye pressed closer, and I could not look away.

_Where is the Ringbearer? Tell me, and I will release you from your pain. You would be my servant, yes, but then you would still be alive. You will die here with this worthless band of nomads. You are aware of that aren't you? And still you travel with them, estranged. Where now is the Hobbit bearing the Ring? I do not feel him with you._

I tried to turn away, but found that I could not. The Eye burned into my own eyes, its flames licked out to touch my face. _You will not tell me, it seems. Then you have chosen the way of pain. In due time, Amira of the Dunedain, you will tell me all that you know…_

I jerked awake, catching myself before I would have slipped off my horse, which checked its speed and slowed to a halt. Aragorn noticed this and drew his horse's reigns taut. He stopped near me, putting his hand on my shoulder.

"Amira…" he murmured. "Are you alright? Has the pain worsened?"

I realized I was breathing heavily. Finding myself unable to speak, I shook my head. Ehlon drew close, and I could see that familiar concerned frown on her face. She opened her mouth to speak, but then shock replaced her earlier expression. "Your Ring!"

Looking down instantly, I saw that my Ring of protection was indeed glowing a bright jade, its silver wrought band feeling hot against my skin. Suddenly I could feel the pendant of the White Tree burning into my skin as well. I met her rapt gaze.

"I do not feel evil in the surrounding area, but…something evil lurks in the darkness if our Rings glow as they do," she said slowly. The rest of the Company had formed a semi-circle around us.

Gandalf spoke next: "I believe Amira was touched by the Eye,"

My neck snapped to his direction, and I found my voice. "I'm fine," I assured them all, but even I could hear the slight tremor in my hoarse voice. In all honesty, it felt like someone was pressing a hot iron to my arm and another was hitting my head with a mason's hammer.

Aragorn sighed. "You nearly fell from your horse, Amira; I don't think it is safe for you to continue…"

I watched Ehlon dismount. "I will ride with her," she said softly, swinging herself up behind me. I accommodated her by moving myself forward, handing her the reigns when she felt for them. Putting her arm around my shoulders, she pulled me backward so that I was leaning my back against her, my head resting in the crook of her neck. "Let us ride!" she murmured, and her voice reverberated against me, setting off the growing pain in my head.

Urging my horse forward, she set out in front until the others caught up with us. I was tense for a while, but finally I let my body go slack. Her hold on me was tight, and although the movements of the horse were sending spears of pain up my arm, I slipped into a light doze against the warmth of her body. Every once and awhile I would jerk awake, and Ehlon would murmur something softly to me before I returned to the unsteady unconscious state I had fallen into.

My encounter with The Eye seemed to have sapped much of my energy, and whenever I surfaced from the muddy dreams dancing in front of my eyes, I realized the pain in the Orc-blade wound was becoming much worse. Ehlon was doing her best to comfort me any way she could, but I knew if we didn't reach Edoras soon, I might lose my arm. The very thought of such a fate nearly made me vomit.

I could not lose my arm now, I could not!

Not in this War, not in this Time…

* * *

Dawn was coming when we stopped next. I awoke to find Gandalf inspecting my arm carefully. Blinking away the dots in front of my eyes, I saw that there was more blood seeping through the bandages than before.

"Oh child," he muttered, shaking his white head. He grasped my other hand in his, meeting my eyes. "Edoras isn't far now." I nodded, and he surprised me by leaning forward to kiss my brow. A small jolt of his magic surged through me, scattering the pain momentarily. I relaxed, and Ehlon tightened her hold on me as they urged their horses forward again.

I hadn't realized I had slipped into a deep sleep until I was awakened by Gandalf's voice.

"Dear girl, I'm afraid Ehlon will have to dismount," he was saying. I leaned forward instantly, but Ehlon didn't move.

"Gandalf, are you sure she's strong enough? I can ride into Edoras with her," she insisted quietly, her hand on my shoulder.

I twisted my body in her direction, laying my good hand on her knee. "I'm better now, Ehlon. Do not worry," I did my best to assure her, smiling a little. "Thank-you,"

She nodded briskly, dismounting. The others had begun to ride away. I caught her hand.

"Ehlon…" my words dried up when she looked at me. "Thank-you," I repeated, and her face broke into a tight smile as she squeezed my hand. She mounted her horse, and I shifted my position to urge my own steed forward.

Since I could not use my one hand, I didn't touch the reigns, letting my horse do what she wanted. She may have been a wild horse of Rohan, but she was gentle and knew exactly what to do at any moment, it seemed. I braced myself with my good hand and allowed her to gallop after Shadowfax.

The plains were melting away against the backdrop of the coming White Mountains of Rohan. Indeed, in the pure blue sky and beneath the steady sun, their white flanks shone like Gandalf's robes in the morning light. No longer was the land rolling plains of grass, but increasingly it was of craggy hilltops and small valleys of green bush and streams. The golden grass still grew, but not as before. The air was sharper here, cooler. I shivered slightly beneath my cloak, but at least the chilling wind did not blow like the days previous.

I had not thought I would find any beauty parallel to that of Lórien, and this was true. However, the more I gazed out at the lands of Rohan, the more I found its quiet beauty captivating. The sheer rock faces of the mountains were bathed in the mists of the receding morning, and the twisted trees that grew on the dew-covered hills were many.

Soon we were riding through a small town of farmsteads, and the village people looked at us with interest as we trotted carefully past them. We picked up our pace again once outside the town. I could now make out a type of citadel on the tallest and most majestic of the hills in the distance, and wondered if this was the heralded capital of Edoras as in the tales I had been told in the past. The halls of Meduseld were rich and welcoming, Rangers had been happy to tell me, and the city itself had the most expansive view in all of Rohan.

As we neared the base of the sloping hillside, Gandalf slowed a little. I was glad of this, for the movements of my horse were less jolting on my arm. I squinted into the rising sun, sighting a shimmering river flowing around behind the hill of Edoras and onward to the West.

When Gandalf halted at the base of the stone road leading up to Edoras, I was confused. He turned toward us after looking out at the land briefly.

"Lead me up to the hall of Meduseld, Aragorn, for I am a weakened old man," he said, as he pulled a grey cloak over his gleaming white robes. I wondered what the wizard had planned, but knew better than to ask. Perhaps he was hoping to surprise King Théoden?

Aragorn nodded with a smirk, dismounting and taking Shadowfax's reigns. We followed suit and dismounted as well. I felt strange walking, but it was less jarring, a happy fact indeed. The stone road led us ever upward, and to my surprise, no one else was journeying up or down. We passed no one as we ascended the hill, and something about the quietness of the place had me on edge. Why did it feel as though some evil was lurking in this great city? I dismissed the thought quickly, returning my attention to the road in front of me.

We turned a sharp corner, and at last we had reached the top. My breath caught when I saw the hilltops and rolling plains from whence we came, and as the sun sparkled on the surface of the river, I knew that I would never forget this scene for as long as I lived. We passed through a gate, and then I saw a large stone building, columns rising to support a defined roof – this must be the great Hall, I thought. It was set on the highest part of the hill, overlooking the rest of the city.

The guards outside eyed us coolly as we halted in front of another dark gate.

"And who might you newcomers be?" a guard called to us, and Gandalf gave him a smile.

"We are friends of King Théoden, seeking his council in a dark time," the wizard answered. "Tell the King that Gandalf the Grey is here to meet him."

The guard hesitated before walking briskly through the side door of the gate and disappearing into the Hall. He returned quickly. "Théoden gives you leave to enter, but any weapon that you bear, be it only a staff, you must leave on the threshold," he said gruffly, and he motioned to the other guards to open the gate. They swung open with a keening screech, and we passed through, winding still upward on a stone path. We at last came to the highest of heights in front of the Hall of Meduseld, where a roughhewn stair climbed to the great door. Other guards sat there, their drawn swords laid over their knees.

Gandalf dismounted from Shadowfax with the "aid" of Aragorn, and motioned for us to leave our horses on this ledge. I patted my horse's muzzle one last time before following him up the roughhewn stair.

The guards stood now. "Hail, comers from afar!" they called, turning the hilts of their swords toward us in a symbol of peace. One of them stepped forward, tall and rangy, and spoke to Gandalf.

"I am the Doorward of Théoden," he announced in the Common Speech, "Háma is my name. Here I must bid you lay aside your weapons before you enter." He spoke kindly, and he smiled at us.

Legolas sighed and gave him his silver knife, as well as his quiver and bow. "Keep these well," the Prince said, "for they come from the Golden Wood and the Lady of Lothlórien gave them to me."

I watched in amusement as the man's eyes widened in amazement. "No man will touch them, I promise you," he said quickly, passing them to an attendant.

Aragorn was visibly hesitating, and I knew he did not like this order one bit. "It is not my will," he muttered, "to put aside my sword or to deliver Andúril to the hand of any other man."

"It is the will of Théoden," Háma pointed out calmly.

The Ranger shook his head, standing unmoving. "It is not clear to me that the will of Théoden son of Thengel even though he be the lord of the Mark, should prevail over the will of Aragorn son of Arathorn, Elendil's heir of Gondor."

Hama's eyes widened, as did my own, at Aragorn's low words. The guard's eyes narrowed, and the atmosphere cooled considerably. "This is the house of Théoden," he said quickly, "not of Aragorn, even were he King of Gondor in the seat of Denethor." He turned his sword around, pointing toward us now. The guards had jumped up and were blocking the entrance to the Hall.

Gandalf huffed as though it was all ridiculous. "This is idle talk," he scoffed, "It is useless to refuse. A King will have his way in his own hall, be it folly or wisdom."

"Truly," Aragorn agreed, "and I would do as the master of the house bade me, were this only a woodman's cot, if I bore now any sword but Andúril."

I stepped forward, laying my hand on Aragorn's arm. He cast me a dark look, returning his gaze to the guard in front of him.

Háma sighed. "Whatever its name may be, here you shall lay it, if you would not fight alone against all the men in Edoras."

Gimli raised his axe suddenly. "Not alone!" he cried, and Gandalf stepped forward.

"Come, come!" he said, "We are all friends here. Or should be, for the laughter of Mordor will be our only reward if we quarrel. My errand is pressing. Here at least is my sword, good man Háma. Keep it well…Now let me pass." The wizard turned to Aragorn, "Come, Aragorn!"

The Ranger sighed, squeezing my hand in silent thanks. Slowly Aragorn moved forward, untying the scabbard from his belt and leaning his sword up against the wall. "Here I set it," he muttered, "but I command you not to touch it. In this Elvish sheath dwells the Blade that was Broken and has been made again. Death shall come to any man who draws Elendil's sword save Elendil's heir."

Háma looked on in awe, lowering his sword. "It shall be, lord, as you command."

Gimli stepped forward. "Well," he said gruffly, "if it has Andúril to keep it company, my axe may stay here too, without shame. Now then, let us go and speak with your master."

Háma glanced at Ehlon and me. "And the ladies' weapons?"

Ehlon rolled her eyes, untying her sword scabbard and handing it to the guard without a word. She gave him also her quiver and bow, and the daggers as well.

"Do not think you might treat these any differently than the sword of Aragorn," she said lowly, her voice dangerous. "I expect these to be here when I return." He looked at them with a perplexed expression on his face before handing them to his attendant and turning to me.

"And yours, my Lady?" he prompted, and I slowly untied the scabbard from my waist. Handing this to him, I gave also my quiver and bow from the woods of Lothlórien, and the one dagger I had left.

"That is all?" he asked, and I nodded. I saw that his eyes were on my bloodied arm, but he made no further comments to me. He looked to Gandalf as the wizard was about to step up to the stair.

"Your staff," he called, "Forgive me, but that too must be left at the doors."

Gandalf frowned deeply. "Foolishness!" he spat, "Prudence is one thing, but discourtesy is another…If I may not lean on my stick as I go, then I will sit out here, until it pleases Théoden to hobble out himself to speak with me."

I held back my amusement, but Aragorn laughed. "Every man has something too dear to trust to another. But would you part an old man from his support?"

Háma glanced suspiciously at Gandalf's staff. "The staff in the hand of a wizard may be more than a prop for age," he said slowly, "Yet in doubt a man of worth will trust to his own wisdom. I believe you are friends and folk worthy of honour, who have no evil purpose." He smiled suddenly, "You may go in."

The guards moved to lift the heavy bars of the doors, pushing them slowly apart until the Hall was open to us. We followed after Gandalf, but I was uneasy. The Hall was not bright and wonderful like the scenes described to me in stories; this Hall was filled with darkness, long and wide though it was.

At the far end of the Hall was a platform with three steps, and in the middle of it was a large gilded throne, upon which sat a man. From here, I could see that he was bent over with age, and his white hair was long and thick, falling in tangled braids from beneath his thin crown. He did not look up when we entered, and stared instead at his feet. Following his gaze, I saw that on the steps there sat a pale, thin-lipped man, a twisted figure himself. He slipped to the side upon seeing us at the end of the Hall, and his dark eyes were disconcerting as they looked each of us up and down. My uneasiness grew, for there was something about this man that screamed of evil.

When we were but eight feet from the King, Gandalf stopped and spoke. "Hail, Théoden son of Thengel! I have returned, for behold! The storm comes, and now all friends should gather together, lest each singly be destroyed."

The King stirred, and I wondered if he had been asleep. To my surprise, he stood, leaning heavily on a short black staff.

"I greet you," he called back, his voice thin, but stronger than I'd imagined, "and maybe you look for welcome. But truth to tell your welcome is doubtful here, Master Gandalf." Now the King's voice was laced with mockery, "You have ever been a herald of woe. I will not deceive you: when I heard that Shadowfax had come back rider-less, I rejoiced at the return of the horse, but still more at the lack of the rider; and when Éomer brought back the tidings that you had gone at last to your long home, I did not mourn. But news from afar is seldom sooth. Here you are again! And with you come evils worse than before, as might be expected. Why should I welcome you, Gandalf Stormcrow? Tell me that." And with this, he slowly sat upon his throne again.

The pale man sitting upon the steps before the platform spoke, his voice nasally and harsh. "You speak justly, lord," he said, "It is not yet five days since the bitter tidings came that Théodred your son was slain upon the West Marches…" He paused to lick his deep red lips, his words dripping in hatred. "In Éomer there is little trust. Few men would be left to guard your walls, if he had been allowed to rule. And even now we learn from Gondor that the Dark Lord is stirring in the East. Such is the hour in which this wanderer chooses to return. Why indeed should we welcome you, Master Stormcrow?"

I was surprised when Gandalf answered in a completely calm, soft fashion. "You are held wise, my friend Wormtongue," he murmured, "Yet in two ways may a man come with evil tidings. He may be a worker of evil, or he may be such as leaves well alone, and comes only to bring aid in time of need."

The pale man, Wormtongue, shifted on the steps. "That is so," he hissed, "but there is a third kind: pickers of bones, carrion-fowl that grow fat on war. What aid have you ever brought, Stormcrow? And what aid do you bring now? It was aid from us that you sought last time that you were here. Then my lord bade you choose any horse that you would and be gone. And to the wonder of all you took Shadowfax in your insolence. My lord was sorely grieved, yet to some it seemed that to speed you from the land the price was not too great. I guess that is likely to turn out the same once more: you will seek aid rather than render it. Do you bring men? Do you bring horses, swords, spears?" Wormtongue's voice was derisive now. "That I would call aid; that is our present need. But who are these that follow at your tail? Five ragged wanderers in grey, and you yourself the most beggar-like of them all!"

I tensed, waiting for Gandalf's reaction, but there was none. Instead, my Mentor turned to the King once more. "The courtesy of your Hall is somewhat lessened of late, Théoden son of Thengel," he said, "Has not the messenger from your gate reported the names of my companions? Seldom has any lord of Rohan received five such guests. Weapons they have laid at your doors that are worth many a mortal man, even the mightiest."

There was a pause, and a cloaked figure that I had not noticed stepped up behind the King. The hood was pushed backward, and I saw pale white skin and golden tresses appear from beneath it. Sharp blue eyes gazed at us from a young, well-formed face, the stance of the woman strong and defensive. Was this Éowyn, the White Lady of Rohan? She met my eyes, and hers widened as she took me in alongside the rest of our Company.

Gandalf was arguing with the King once more, but I no longer heard his words. A white noise roared in my ears like the falls of Rauros, and I found myself unable to look away from the eyes of the woman behind Théoden. Something desperate lingered in her eyes, and it called to me in a way I had not felt before. At last she looked away, and this was when I saw that Wormtongue's gaze also was on her. Greedily he looked upon her form, hunger shining in his beady eyes. A wave of anger washed over me: did this foul creature desire her? _Could it be? _

Glancing down at my Ring, I saw that it was glowing softly in the darkness of the Hall. Suddenly, without mistake, I knew this creature was the evil presence I had sensed from afar…

At this moment, Gandalf cast aside his tattered cloak, leaning no longer on his staff and standing tall and strong before the King. His white robes shone even in the darkness, and I watched Wormtongue scuttle toward the shadows of the columns in fright. The guards had their hands on the hilts of their swords, but stood still awaiting an order from their master.

In a cold, powerful voice, the wizard intoned: "The wise speak only of what they know, Gríma son of Gálmód. A witless worm you have become. Therefore be silent, and keep your forked tongue behind your teeth. I have not passed through fire and death to bandy crooked words with a serving-man till the lightning falls."

He raised his staff, and suddenly there was a low rumble of thunder. The sunlight from the Eastern windows disappeared, and the entire Hall became completely dark, as though night had suddenly fallen. Only Gandalf could be seen in his white robes.

"And what desires has Gríma, King Théoden? He might be your counsel, but he desires more than your position…Your niece, Éowyn, has not escaped his grasp. Did you know this, Théoden?" Gandalf turned to me suddenly, and I realized I was frozen in my anger. "My friend, Amira, senses things far better than anyone. Tell of Gríma!"

I ground my teeth, staring with hatred at the form of the traitor by the columns. "He desires the Lady…" I said quietly, my voice shaking with emotion, "making her fear for her life!"

In the gloom, Wormtongue let out a hiss. "These are lies, dear King. Did I not counsel you, lord, to forbid his staff? That fool, Háma, has betrayed us!"

There was a blinding flash of light from Gandalf's staff, and Wormtongue lay sprawled on the stone floor. The guards charged forward to us, and although my eyes had adjusted to the darkness, I did not sense the guard's presence until too late. He pushed me toward the columns, where I fell heavily against the wall, directly onto my injured arm. I could not bite back the cry of pain that escaped my lips as I nearly fell into unconsciousness. I kicked out with my foot, and I heard the guard curse as he dropped his sword.

"Enough!" Gandalf shouted over the din, and the darkness cleared. Ehlon had a guard in a headlock, and she pushed him aside roughly at the wizard's cry. Aragorn and Legolas appeared completely unaffected by the attack, standing defensively around Gandalf. Gimli had grabbed Gríma Wormtongue by the back of his tunic and was holding him down on the floor, seemingly content to keep him there so that he wouldn't wiggle away. Legolas's eyes found mine, and he was at my side in an instant, pushing away the cursing guard that stood surveying his bruised knuckles nearby. Legolas was staring at my arm with wide eyes, and I nodded to signal that I was alright. The pain was awful, but there were more important things at hand. The Elf frowned as Gandalf raised his voice again.

"Now Théoden son of Thengel, will you hearken to me? Do you ask for help?" He motioned with his staff to the sky, "Not all is dark. Take courage, Lord of the Mark, for better help you will not find. No counsel have I to give to those that despair. Yet counsel I could give, and words I could speak to you. Will you hear them? I bid you come out before your doors and look abroad. Too long have you sat in shadows and trusted to twisted tales and crooked promptings."

The King's furrowed brow and wrinkled skin retreated, leaving behind a noble face gently aged. His white, stringy hair fell back to reveal strong grey. His stooped shoulders straightened, and he took a deep breath, as though he not been truly alive until this moment. A slight flush appeared on his cheeks, and his blue eyes burned with a new light.

I stayed where I had fallen against the wall, watching alongside Legolas as the King slowly left his throne. More light grew in the Hall as he did so, and it grew still as he stepped down from the platform and padded down the hall. Ehlon shot me a concerned look, but I merely nodded to her to show I was alright. Turning my head toward Legolas, I used my good hand to push him in the direction of Gandalf. Frowning deeper still, he stood, and I patted his arm in thanks.

Gandalf smiled as the King stood by him, the man looking down at his hands with awe, flexing his fingers experimentally. "Dark have been my dreams of late," Théoden murmured, still staring at his able hands. Then he started toward the closed doors.

Gandalf followed after Théoden, knocking on the door. "Open!" he cried, "The Lord of the Mark comes forth!"

The doors were pulled back, allowing the brisk air to come through from the hillside. The woman, Éowyn, ran from behind the King's throne and up to the old man. She touched his shoulder, concern on her beautiful face.

Gandalf was gesturing outside. "Send your guards down to the stairs foot, and you, Lady, leave him a while with me." My Mentor smiled gently at her, "I will care for him."

The King turned to his niece, taking in her frightened expression. "Go, Éowyn, sister-daughter!" he cried, and now his voice was different – lighter, stronger. "The time for fear is past…"

He stepped past the threshold, leaving his niece behind as he was followed by Gandalf.

"Now, lord," he was saying, "look out upon your land! Breath the free air again!"

I looked down at my arm, seeing that the guard's rough grasp had caused the bandage to loosen and blood to flow again. I ground my teeth, feeling new pain wash over me. Steps came nearer, and I looked up to see Lady Éowyn crouching in front of me. Her keen eyes widened when they saw the blood.

"You must come to a Healer…" she whispered, her voice slightly accented as she spoke in the Common Speech. Her hands rested on my uninjured arm. I touched my fingers to her hand gratefully, fighting against the pain.

I opened my mouth to speak, but a pain far greater than anything I'd previous felt struck me much like the lightning Gandalf had summoned. I sucked in a painful breath, black blotches fluttering like moths in front of my eyes as I struggled against the pain. I felt hands grab me roughly, fingers holding my head against a warm body. Ehlon was speaking lowly to the Lady, but I could not comprehend her words. It was as though I was slipping under water. Sounds were drifting in languidly, distant and muffled. Pain descended again, and suddenly, The Eye flashed before my eyes, scattering the black blotches. Searing into me and peering into the depths of my soul, it whispered to me, reaching out and pulling me forward.

_Come…You are weak now. I would make you strong, invisible…Come, my Amira!_

I wrenched myself away from The Eye's force, and in doing so I returned to the burning pain of consciousness. My eyes fluttered open briefly, and I vaguely realized I was being carried by Legolas down a dark hall, led by the golden-haired Éowyn and a grim, travel-stained Ehlon. I wanted to struggle against the Elf's hold, but all strength had left me. I was limp and pliable in his arms, burning hot with pain. I heard a door being opened and shut, and then I was lowered onto a soft bed. If the pain had not been so great, I might have revelled in the comfort of laying on a surface other than dirt or grass. A hand was laid briefly on my forehead, but that was soon gone. I felt myself slipping further and further underwater, recessing back into the depths of my unconscious. I fought against it, all the while knowing it was futile. Voices continued to reach my ears, and it was as though they spoke a foreign language. I recognized Ehlon's worried tone, but then even that disappeared as darkness overtook me…

* * *

**Death is around the corner for Amira, and only time will tell if she will return to the world of the living...I'm sure you doubt I will kill off my own main character, but you never know! ;) Also, it occurred to me that an injury as bad as to make one possibly lose their own arm would make anyone weak and make them seem damsel-in-distress. If this were any modern person today, you can imagine most people would barely be able to ride a horse a few feet on their own let alone for hours on end. **

**I agree that Amira has lost some of her Ranger strength as you have seen previously, but that soon will return. Give her a chance to...well, hopefully not die from blood loss!**

**Rant over. :) Please review, since it makes me think more deeply about my work and it also makes me, you guessed it, "grin like a fool"! Your interest is always _greatly_ appreciated - each one of you reading this right now, if you are still reading, you are most appreciated. **


	4. The Visions

**Chapter Twenty: The Visions**

_I was floating freely like a feather spinning from an eagle's wing, swirling like a broad leaf from a tree shedding gold in the fall. The darkness was receding, a brilliant atmosphere of bright white light replacing it. Pain was becoming ever more distant, until all that I felt was awe. I felt rather than saw the emptiness of the luminescent whiteness surrounding me. I wondered briefly if I was dying, but even that did not matter. I was suspended in the air, spinning slowly, moving like a star against the dark ebony of the night sky. Happiness seized me, as bright as the whiteness around me. The feeling surged through my body, electrifying and tender at once. I revelled in it, sensing a change in the atmosphere moments before it occurred. _

_Suddenly, I was no longer floating. I was moving quickly – was it forward, upward? I could not tell. The bright light grew more concentrated and powerful, cutting through my euphoria. What was happening? If I were dead, should I not already in the presence of the Valar before being sent to Valinor? Terror struck me in that instant. I could not be dead! The Fellowship, as it broken as it were, needed me. I could not leave the fate of Frodo and Sam to the hands of Sauron, no matter what bliss awaited me in Valinor. _

_The force moved me at a fearsome speed now, and I struggled against it. I stopped my struggle, realizing it was hopeless. Death could not be undone. I could never return. My terror faded, replaced slowly by a crippling grief. Was this truly my fate? Was I dead after all? I was beginning to lose all hope for my endless flight through the bright whiteness when I at last skidded to a stop on…a white marble floor? I looked up, peering at the tall marble columns rising above me like pillars of a lost time. I caught sight of my hand; when I looked down I realized my body was exactly as it had been upon my apparent death. There was a long tear in the sleeve of my right arm, but when I touched it tentatively, I realized the skin beneath it was completely healed. _

_I stared at my arm for a long moment, stunned and unsettled. I turned a slow circle, gazing uncomfortably at the silent marble hall's ceiling. Steps sounded from nearby, and I whirled around, my pulse coming fast. I was beginning to understand where I had arrived, but the name evaded me. When a tall Elf in flowing white robes appeared from behind a column, I knew._

_This was the Hall of Mandos, the Hall of Waiting. _

_This was where my fate would be decided._

_More, though – this was proof of my death. _

_Námo, the Doomsman of the great Hall, stood in front of me in silence. White light surrounded him, blotting out the features of his regal face. I took several steps backward, sinking to my knees in shock. _

"_Welcome, Amira," he said, but his lips did not movie. His voice sounded again in my mind, "The Valar must think highly of you indeed for sending me personally to see you."_

_I stared at him, willing my vocal chords to work. Finally, I responded: "My Lord, I do not understand," my voice shook, betraying my inner turmoil, "I-I cannot be dead, my Lord. There is too much that has not been done." I took a calming breath, whispering: "I cannot leave them behind!"_

_Námo smiled, stepping in a slow circle around me. "And you will not leave them behind, dearest Amira."_

_My eyes widened, "My Lord, what do you mean?"_

_His smile grew, as though he were amused by my reaction. "You did not die, Amira. At least, not as of yet. The Valar have been watching you carefully since your birth, and would certainly not leave you to the waiting arms of Death when the Ring has not yet met its end in the fires of Mount Doom."_

"_I-I did not die?" I stammered, "But…forgive me, my Lord, but why am I here in the Halls of Mandos?"_

_Námo let out a soft sigh, and he raised his arms slightly. "The Valar sent me to help you understand, Amira. This is not only a Hall of those who are dead, but a Hall for those who must see their fate. You, Amira, were chosen by the Valar for a heavy task, as you well know."_

_He gave me a deep look before continuing, stepping yet another slow circle around me. "Fate does not give any Man, Elf, or Dwarf one destiny, writ upon ageless stone. Therefore," and here he turned abruptly, causing his white robes to shimmer around him as he faced me, "your fate is not one, but many paths. You are on the very brink of Death in the physical world as we speak, and I'm afraid there is not much time. You must make your decision, Amira of the Dunedain, and you must make it now…"_

_I opened my mouth to question him, but he raised his hand in warning. "You know of what I speak. Let your visions guide you…"_

_There was a pressure growing in my head, making me panic a little. I took a deep breath, breathing in the sweet air of the Hall. Images were flashing through my mind now at a dizzying speed, memories of my journey with the Fellowship: my descent into the grassy Shire, the Ringwraiths advancing on Weathertop, the flight to the Ford with Glorfindel, the serene and ethereal valley of Rivendell, the trek upon the pass of Caradhras, the path through Moria, the rest upon the hillside slopes of Lórien and the magical presence of Lady Galadriel, the waters of the River Anduin, the death of Boromir in the glade, the search for the Hobbits in Fangorn forest, the return of Gandalf and the arrival at Edoras…_

_And here a sharp, unbroken vision came. A woman was lying upon a rumpled bed beneath a window. She was young, and seemed to be in great pain. Her face shone with a bright sheen of sweat, and her hair was slick and sticking to the side of her feverish cheeks. Her chest rose in short, shallow breaths, and I ached to reach out and comfort her in some way. Her body convulsed for a moment, but then she relaxed, a small, pained sigh escaping her cracked lips. A door opened and shut, and a woman entered the room, kneeling next to the young woman's bed. The second woman's hand was in the younger one's tangled brown hair, speaking low words of reassurance. This woman's voice shook with anguish, and it took me a moment to realize that her shoulders too were shaking in silent sobs. The young woman turned unconsciously toward the newcomer, and the second woman held her head in her arms. _

_The door opened again, and a golden-haired woman, younger than the newcomer, approached the bed. There was sharp intake of breath, and this woman touched the second one's shoulder. There was a brief exchange that I could not hear, and suddenly the second woman stood. Her profile was dark against the light coming through the window, but then she turned, facing me. _

_It was Ehlon, dressed still in her Ranger clothes._

_Tears shone bright in her eyes, and her face was flushed in a silent anger and grief. My heart felt as though it were in twain as I stepped forward, reaching out to her. Her eyes flashed suddenly and met mine. She reeled backward, colliding roughly against Lady Éowyn. The Lady steadied her briefly, but then she too turned to stare at me in astonishment. _

_I took a few more slow steps until I was standing in front of Ehlon. Her breathing was fast, and her features belied her inner conflict. I reached out my hand, touching her arm. It was as though the electricity of a lightning storm passed between us, and I could tell Ehlon was repressing the overwhelming urge to jump backwards as much as I was. We stayed that way for a moment, and then she grasped my hand tightly._

"_Amira…this cannot be happening," Ehlon breathed. When I looked down, I saw the source of her further amazement. My hand, arm, my entire body was glowing with white, ethereal light. I raised my eyes again to meet hers, and she was shaking her head. "No…" she whispered, "this cannot be!"_

_I found my voice at last, though I believe only she could hear it. "Yes it can, Ehlon. I am not yet dead, but until I make my final decision I might as well be."_

_She tightened her hold on my hand, and an outpouring of her emotions – her grief, anger, strength, and…_love_ – came through to me. I felt my eyes widen. _

_Ehlon released my hand, her jaw rigid as she whispered: "Make your final decision, Amira…_Make it for all of us!_"_

_A blinding flash of white exploded before my eyes, and then the scene fell back. I was standing shaking upon the marble floors of the Halls of Mandos once again, my breathing fast and unsteady. I did not even have time to recover before another vision took hold of me… _

_It was Isengard, where the two towers of Saruman stood above the surging army of Orc blacksmiths and training Uruk-hai. The hills were blackened and bare of the forests that had once stood proudly upon them, their wood now fueling the great fires below in the mines of the blacksmiths. One by one the remaining tree giants were being felled by heavily armoured Uruk-hai, the trees emitting screams as they crashed to the ground. _

_Upon the tallest tower stood a man robed in white – Saruman. He gazed upon the growing army of Sauron with a satisfied smile, his white beard rustling in the wind that blew over the tower. A figure clothed in black stood behind the wizard, their form tall but slight. The image grew closer until I could see the dark figure clearly. Their face was covered by a shadow from their black hood, but somehow, by the sickening clench in my chest, I knew the identity of the person all too well. _

_Saruman turned, gesturing grandly to the scene below. "Our armies are nearly ready, my dear, the likes of which none in Middle Earth has ever seen. The time of the Elves, the Dwarves, and the Men is over…The time of Mordor has arrived!" The wizard stepped forward, "And by the graces of Sauron the Great, you have been spared great pain, Amira of the Dunedain. I did not expect you to join our ranks, but with you behind us the force of Mordor will be greater. You know the minds of your people, and for that we shall conquer them."_

_I watched myself smile. "My Lord, I will always be grateful, for my previous life was futile. The power of Mordor cannot be undone. The Ring will be One with its Master once more."_

_Saruman's smile widened. "My dear Amira, you are my High General. You have pondered the maps and walked among our army… The old allies of Men and Elves are weak. Men fight with Men, Elves leave for Valinor, and Dwarves are too busy counting their riches in the depths of their caves to care about the fate of Middle Earth. There is no strength left in the line of Men, no deadly race that will overturn our armies' advances. Tell me, what is it that you see?"_

_My dark figure moved slightly, "My Lord, I see what you have seen long before I came to your service." I paused, "But there is still one left who brings them all hope. You know of whom I speak, Lord Saruman. Aragorn son of Arathorn, Elessar, Elf-stone – call him what you will, but he is a danger to us. I who have walked with him know his strength is great. He has the power to lift Men to their greatest strength, and he carries with him the re-forged Sword of Narsil, blessed with the magic of the Elves. His Númenor blood runs strong within him, and he desires to reunite Gondor and Rohan, and reclaim the lost lands of Arnor."_

_Saruman snarled. "He will not have the chance!" he spat, "You yourself say that there is no strength left in those old allies, and I have seen this for long! Sauron sees All, the Eye knows All. Mordor knows its fate, no matter what weary Ranger has in his sights!"_

_My dark self sighed. "My Lord, it is only experience with this Man that cautions me." The wind forced my hood back, and I suddenly saw my face, stern and lined with weariness. My youth was gone. There was no vitality in that face, only age and shadow. _

_The wizard gripped his white staff, but then he relaxed. "You speak true, Amira. You are wise to be cautious, but it is not caution that we require." He touched my shoulder, "Find Aragorn son of Arathorn, Amira, and bring him to me."_

"_Alive?" my dark self asked. Saruman laughed._

"_Yes, my dear, I trust that you will bring him alive and well. You will be the lost member of the Fellowship, departing from the clutches of Sauron at long last, desperate to return to your Chieftain and speak of the secrets of Saruman." He smiled, and I did as well. "He will trust you, and you will lead him to your snare, where the Uruk-hai will capture him at your command. And from there, my dear, you know the rest."_

_His tone darkened as he hissed his final demand: "BRING HIM!"_

_With another blinding flash of white, I was laying on my back upon the cold marble floor of the Hall of Mandos. My chest was tight, and pain was seeping into my body. I clutched at the floor, begging silently for release from these visions. I found my lips moving: "I have made my final choice…Let me go!"_

_And all at once, the darkness returned, and my thoughts were no more…_

* * *

**The visions may tell something of Amira's fate, as you will see in the following chapters. If you have been wondering just what is going with Amira's power, then you will not need to wait long for answers. Trust me, Amira is going to get frustrated pretty soon, as will our, at times, impatient Ehlon. ;) That's all I will say for now.**

**Reviews are always wonderful to see. **


	5. The Missing Chapter

**The Missing Chapter: Author's Note **

I realize you might have thought this was a new chapter, and as much as I am sorry to have disappointed you, I think I should let whatever readers I have left know that I am currently at an impasse in this story, and am trying to figure out a way around my writer's block. Amira is literally on the verge of having something very important happen to her, and it is critical that I get the passage of events leading up to this moment exactly right, which is why it is taking more time to post new chapters.

I have had to face re-doing an entire chapter, which may not sound like much. However, what it really means is that it will change the mood and meaning of the entire story for the future, which is obviously much more serious, a seriousness which I hope you understand merits an author's note (I wouldn't post this if I didn't feel it necessary). I thought I would keep you all in the loop!

THE MAIN THING TO GET OUT OF THIS - I did have writer's block for a very long time + I have since overcome it with an exciting new direction = I will be re-doing a few things and posting as soon as I find more inspiration and time in my life (time is short these days).

Thanks so much for staying with me! :) I appreciate it.


	6. Awakening

**Chapter Twenty-One: Awakening**

My eyelids fluttered open, and the light was so blinding that I squeezed them shut instantly. Surprisingly alert, I took stock of my body where it lay upon the soft, welcoming sheets. Pain had disappeared from my arm. Indeed, there was no pain anywhere that I could feel. A feeling bubbled up inside me, rising from the depths of my being. It was…happiness; happiness so great that I felt a tear escape my eye and slide down my cheeks.

_The Valar had granted my wish; they had sealed my final choice. _

I opened my eyes fully, and it was then I realized there was a presence in the room. Turning slightly, I sighted none other than Ehlon sitting in a chair nearby, her head off to one side and her body slack in whatever exhaustion had taken her to the waiting arms of sleep. She was facing me, and I saw the furrow in her brow, the tenseness of her muscles visible even now.

I pushed off the sheets from my body, sliding off the bed. Testing my arm, I discovered absolutely no resistance or pain in response to my movements. Indeed, just as I had seen in the Hall of Mandos, there was no evidence of the Orc wound whatsoever – my pale skin was as completely unmarred as it had been before! Too exhilarated to dwell for long on this miracle, I stood in my bloodstained shirt and Ranger's trousers, the stones cool beneath my bare feet. I stepped over to Ehlon, looking down upon her weary face. Reaching out, I touched her cheek, coaxing my energy to flow into her exhausted body. Warmth spread down my arm and into my hands, and I could feel her skin warm beneath my fingers as her body relaxed and slipped deeper into unconsciousness.

Satisfied by her now-peaceful doze, I turned to the door. Before long, I was outside in the hall, treading softly into the courtyard beyond it. The tender light of sunrise was falling over me, and the wind was blowing the sweet scent of the grassy slopes beyond Edoras to my nose, warm and moist with morning dew.

A deep chuckle sounded from nearby, and I whirled about to see a cloaked figure standing behind me.

"Awake from the dead, I see," Gandalf said, his voice holding warmth as he stepped out into the light of the courtyard toward me.

"Gandalf…" I murmured as he pulled me into his embrace.

"You have frightened us all, Amira," he whispered back, "The Eye drew your energy from you like poison. Even I did not know if you would come back to us."

I pulled away, stunned by his words. "You did not know?"

My Mentor smiled sadly, "A wizard cannot know everything."

"I'm sorry I frightened you," I said sincerely, "I did not realize how close to…death I was."

Gandalf exhaled heavily, his blue eyes bright. "You have been hovering close to death for many days now, Amira, and I was afraid for you. I have no power over such things as fate, and I could not have done anything to save you…"

I saw the anguish in his eyes and pulled him into another tight embrace. "Oh Gandalf, do not blame yourself. I am alive and well now, by the grace of the Valar."

He wiped away a tear with a slight chuckle, and something flashed in his eyes before he sighed. "Yes, child, by the grace of the Valar you have returned to us and a good many would be anxious to see you alive."

I narrowed my eyes at him, glancing around the courtyard. "Where are they?"

Gandalf sighed once more. "Aragorn has been pacing the Hall for some time, stopping only to gaze upon the plains and watch the smoke from his pipe; Gimli has been sitting outside your door for hours with his axe, and only left just an hour ago to eat for the first time since he arrived; Ehlon as you saw was in the chair by your bed, and would not leave your side, no matter what food or rest called to her; and Legolas has been aiding Lady Éowyn to find Athelas until you were beyond the help of mere herbs or plants...He too is with Gimli." The wizard paused for a moment, "They have not slept or rested, and indeed the palace has been a quiet, joyless place while you lay as white as death upon that bed."

My eyes widened, and I touched Gandalf meaningfully on the arm before walking briskly down the opposite corridor. There was a stone platform behind a few of the columns, and I saw a familiar figure sitting facing the plains, smoke rising from his pipe. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I took measured, quiet steps toward him until I was a mere three feet away.

"Do not be grieved, Lord Aragorn," I said, and immediately he turned toward me, his weary face alight with hope. "All is well now…" I murmured, extending an arm to pull him up. Instead, he gripped my forearm, pulling me down against him in a tight hold. He then held me back, gazing at me with an astonished expression, shaking his head.

"How it is that you are alive I will not question, but I thank the Valar for your return, _mellon nin_," he whispered, his grey eyes full of emotion. He stood, pulling me up with him. He peered down at my arm, spreading the torn material to view the unmarred skin of my forearm beneath it. He shook his head, "You are a wonder, Amira, you truly are."

His smile was wide, "Now come. The others must see you,"

With that, he led me down another dark corridor, opening up to a small eating hall. Seated at the end of the long, empty oak table, were Legolas and Gimli, picking half-heartedly at their food. Legolas, with his keen ears, looked up instantly. In a flash, he was at my side.

Without a word, he embraced me just as tightly as had Aragorn and Gandalf, his fingers weaving into my hair. Pulling back, he looked me over for injury. When he saw none, he shook his head, breathing out a soft exhale. Gimli pushed the Elf out of the way roughly, gazing up at me in amazement.

"Amira...lass…" the Dwarf spluttered, and I smiled as I knelt before him.

"I am well, Gimli." I said, touching his arm. His deep brown eyes filled with tears, and he moved forward to give me a bone-crushing embrace.

"Don't injure her, Dwarf," Legolas hissed, and Gimli pulled back quickly, eyes wide.

"Nay, I am fine, Master Dwarf," I whispered, squeezing his hand. "Thank-you, _khadran_." (Dwarfish for "trusted friend, battle brother")

Gimli sniffed, straightening his shoulders. "Aye, _khadran_!"

We all went silent as hurried footsteps came down the hall, light and soft. Lady Éowyn's voice reached our ears, "Amira is gone from her bed!" she cried, her voice hoarse. I turned to face her, and she stopped short, her breathing echoing against the stone in the corridor. I walked forward, and she backed up a step, her eyes wide with fear and shock.

"How can this be? You were dying!" she whispered as I took her hands.

"My Lady," I murmured, "All is well. By the grace of the Valar and your healing, I am alive."

She gazed down at our intertwined hands, her pale, slender fingers around my dirty, blood-stained ones. "I do not understand…" her voice shook as she turned my hand over and pushed up the material of my sleeve, "You were dying…" Her fingers traced the smooth skin of my arm where the Orc wound had once been not long ago.

"I was," I said softly, "and I do not fully understand it myself, other than that I will thank the Valar every minute of my waking hours for the chance they have given me."

Éowyn lifted her eyes to mine. "And so will I," she murmured, fear leaving her eyes now as it was replaced by relief. She smiled at me, "Come Ranger Amira…There is still work to be done."

"I will have a bath filled for you," she said as she led me down the corridor.

"Thank-you, Lady Éowyn, for all you have done for me," I returned.

She just smiled. We passed through a door and crossed a small circular courtyard before coming to a heavy oak door. She pushed it open, ushering me inside. The room was slightly darkened, and when my eyes adjusted, I could see a sunken bath to the far end of the room, fashioned out of stones. She called a maid, and I watched as the bath was filled with hot water brought in by pails. The water released steam into the air, and the scent of whatever herbs infused the water reminded me of lying in a field of sweet-smelling wildflowers.

Éowyn motioned to the towels near the lip of the bath. "Those are for your use," she said, and then she picked up something from the back of a wooden chair nearby. "And this…" she added with a smile as she turned around, "is for you to wear while we cleanse the Ranger outfit you arrived in."

I felt awestruck by her generosity. I shook my head. "I cannot thank you enough, my Lady,"

Something flashed in her eyes, and she sighed. "And I cannot thank you enough for arriving at the very depths of our despair," Then she looked at me curiously, "Do you possess magic like the wizard Gandalf if you knew of all of what had happened here?"

I hesitated. "It is nothing near as powerful as Gandalf's abilities, but it allowed me to see what…" I paused, remembering the disgusting image of Gríma Wormtongue's desire for Éowyn, "…what that awful creature felt for you."

She tensed for a moment, and I wondered if I had crossed a line I shouldn't have by saying such a thing. But then she sighed. "I will leave you to your solitude, unless of course you might require my aid."

I smiled, bowing to her. "Thank-you, my Lady. I believe I am strong enough."

Her smile was like that sun rising over the golden grasslands. "Very well. I will have Fäirna wait outside of this door, in case you need assistance."

And then she was gone, leaving me to the scented, steam-filled air of the bath.

* * *

I stayed in the bath for so long that I nearly fell asleep in the water. It was as though I had died and sailed off to Valinor. I washed my hair and rest of my body, and then I grudgingly left the warmth of the bath. When I had dried myself off with the provided towels, I turned to the full-length mirror. Catching a glimpse of myself naked, I stopped in surprise. Despite the old scars scattered around my body, I looked quite unharmed and healthy, even…beautiful. I touched the old arrow wound scar on my shoulder, lost in memory. I sighed and stepped to the chair, picking up the dress that had been laid over it. It was of a thin, smooth fabric, its deep red colour seeming to glow in the semi-darkness of the room.

Putting on the dress, I stepped in front of the mirror again. My breath caught. Indeed, I looked much better than I imagined I had appeared when we had arrived. I smiled at myself and ran my fingers through my damp hair. I looked back to the chair, and saw that a fine tooth comb had been left there as well. Éowyn had thought of everything, it seemed…

* * *

A few minutes later, I had made myself look as presentable as possible. Pulling open the door, I nearly jumped when I saw the maid Fäirna waiting in the hall outside.

"Oh!" I said in surprise, "It's only you."

She smiled shakily, seemingly just as astonished. "You look much refreshed, miss."

"I am, thank-you," I returned. Her smile widened.

"We have ordered a feast for your coming," she explained, a hint of excitement in her voice. "We have not had such a feast in a long while!"

I smiled at her, "Then let these next days be days of joy and hope, rather than darkness and despair."

Fäirna hesitated, looking around her fearfully before speaking lowly: "The King does not know his only heir, his son, died naught two days ago. We all despair for him, miss. He has returned to us, but we all fear to tell him the truth!"

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "It will be broken gently to him by Gandalf, I am sure," I whispered.

I left her gaping at me as I walked away down the corridor. I was looking for the one person who I had not yet seen…

Ehlon.

* * *

I wandered this way and that, wondering where she had gone. At long last, when it seemed I had travelled all the corridors and halls in the palace, I found her sitting beneath a tree in one of the many small courtyards. She was resting with her back against the trunk, her eyes closed. I watched her for a moment, deducing that she was not asleep, judging by her fingers that stirred in the green grass below them.

I stepped forward, and her eyes flashed open, meeting mine. Whatever mischievous phrase I was about to say disappeared as I took in the depths of her eyes, the pull of them palpable even from that distance.

"Ehlon…" I murmured, bowing my head slightly. She continued to stare at me, silent and still. I moved toward her slowly, unable to break away from her gaze. Something was passing between us, but I wasn't sure exactly what it was at that moment. Intensity existed in the air that wasn't present before, and I was approximately two long strides away from her before the tension snapped.

She rose in the next instant, standing astonishingly quickly. Her jaw was rigid, her eyes bright with a fire I had only rarely seen in the heat of battle. "If this is another foul vision," she spat, "then I will not see it. I will not stand to be fooled! If this is the magic of Saruman tempting me, I will not have it!"

I staggered backwards, stunned by her words.

Ehlon took a step forward, drawing her sword slowly and pointing it at my neck. "The body of Amira lies dying in a room not too far from here, if she is not already dead," she murmured lowly, "And if you think I will believe that this is more than a dark vision, you take me for a fool of all fools!"

I touched Ehlon's shimmering blade. "Ehlon, you are mistaken," I said, shaking my head.

She smiled grimly. "I do not think so…"

I ground my teeth in frustration. "If you think I am a vision from Saruman, Ehlon, do you think I would be able to do _this_?" And with that, I ran my finger lightly over her blade, cutting myself. A long bead of bright red blood emerged from the cut, glowing beneath the sun. "Check the room, Ehlon, and you will find it empty. The news did not reach you, it seems, that the grace of the Valar spared me the pain of death just in time to return to Middle Earth for another chance."

Her harsh expression was slowly fading as she comprehended my words.

"It cannot be…" she whispered, backing away from me in shock, reminding me of the scene we had exchanged from my vision in the Hall of Mandos.

I reached forward and touched her shoulder, "It can, Ehlon, and it is."

She stared at me in silence.

"I am _alive_, Ehlon!" I whispered. She swallowed visibly, taking a deep breath.

"Then you must think me a great fool, Amira," she said, grasping my hand where it held her shoulder. She sighed, smiling suddenly: "A great fool, indeed."

I shook my head, "No…" I whispered, "You are no fool. You are right to think that Saruman would use me."

She grabbed my arms roughly, "I will not let that happen! You will not be out of my sight."

I smiled, "Ehlon, I-"

I was interrupted when she pulled me against her, holding me as though she were keeping me from falling apart. Or, perhaps to keep herself from falling apart, I wasn't exactly sure. She wrapped her arms tighter around me, resting her chin on my shoulder. I felt her body shaking slightly, and I knew she was holding back tears.

Her voice was hoarse when she uttered her next words: "Do not _ever _frighten me like that again, Amira. _Ever_."

I pushed her back gently, wiping away the one tear that had escaped her eye with the backs of my fingers. "I cannot promise such a thing, Ehlon, but I hope I may not experience it again until my days are spent with age."

She touched my hair, a distant look in her eyes as she smoothed a dark tangle. "Then promise the fool in me," she breathed out, "for I came close to losing a young woman whom I have come to care for a great deal…"

She lifted her gaze to mine, smiling. I had no words. There was truly nothing I could think of to say, so I smiled back. She grasped my hands in hers. We had been together since the faint beginnings of this journey, and the bond that had been forged was strong. She knew it, and I knew it too. It was our fate to fight this War side by side. Our Rings would always find each other, no matter where we stood in Middle Earth. We were members of the Fellowship through and through…

Nothing would ever change that.

* * *

We walked away from that courtyard and into the now-bustling corridor. It was filled with maids and serving men, readying the great Hall for the coming feast. Ehlon led me away from the noise of the Hall and to the balcony where I had first found Aragorn. She beckoned me to sit next to her on the stone bench.

"Where are the others?" I inquired softly.

She smiled. "They are preparing themselves to appear decent enough to appear in the great Hall of the House of Rohan, I am led to believe."

I glanced sideways at her, eyeing her torn and dirtied Ranger gear. "And what about you? Is this in keeping with the styles?"

She grinned at my teasing, light tone. "Oh hush," she chuckled, "To be quite truthful, I am afraid to leave you lest you disappear like a vision."

My amusement faded, and I turned toward her fully. "You still think this is all a dream, Ehlon? What must I do to convince you this is all real?"

Ehlon smiled at me softly. "Nothing, Amira. You need not do a thing. I am just being an old fool, a side I have shown no more often today than ever in my life, I'm afraid."

"Then go…" I said, nudging her shoulder. "I will be here when you return."

She stood, giving me a begrudging stare before moving past the columns and down the corridor toward her room. I chuckled to myself.

A figure slid from the shadows at the corner of my eye and moved into the light.

"Pray tell what so is amusing?" Aragorn's voice came clearly from next to me. I stared out at the slopes of Edoras, watching the rising sun play on the golden fields.

"I believe you heard it all, Aragorn, so you might spare me the breath of repeating it," I returned smoothly, smiling as he laughed softly. He came to sit next to me, turning his pipe over and over in his calloused hands.

"I am not the only one who thought I was dreaming when I first saw you," he said lowly.

I sighed, "Ehlon is too hard on herself. It is a common reaction, I would think."

Aragorn squinted into the sun. "Common, yes, but nonetheless more strong with one who you care for greatly."

I stared at his noble profile, the sun lighting up his handsome face. I did not know what to make of his words. The weight of them robbed me of my breath. We sat completely still next to each other, watching the sun rise higher in the rounded sky.

"Aragorn?"

He looked at me, waiting.

I let out a soft exhale. "Thank-you,"

The Ranger smiled, shaking his head slightly. He put his arm around my shoulders, sighing quietly. I leaned into him, enjoying the warmth of the moment. Who knew how many moments we would have like this, with the darkness of Mordor waiting to be unleashed? There was so much pain and death in the path we were walking, and yet…I had never expected I would find such familial-like bonds within the Fellowship as I had.

I traced the edge of the Ring on Aragorn's finger, watching it catch the sun. It was shaped like two serpents intertwined, meeting around a green jewel in the center. "What is this Ring, Aragorn? I have seen it long upon your hand but never known its significance. Surely it is significant?"

I felt him smile above me. "It is the Ring of Barahir," he whispered, and my breath caught.

I straightened, staring at him in awe. "The Ring of Barahir? The Ring retrieved by Beren?"

He nodded, lifting his hand and letting the light catch the stone once more. "Yes, Amira, the very same. It is another heirloom of my House, given to me by Elrond in Rivendell when he told me of my true lineage."

I stared at the Ring, frowning slightly. "It is difficult to imagine you as a young boy, Aragorn. Where did you get your wisdom and courage?"

He chuckled, and I felt his eyes on me. "I do not think it is wisdom or courage…It is more akin to survival. One must be sharp at all times, much like the sword one carries."

I met his eyes, looking into their grey depths. There was so much profundity and complexity that lay within them, so much pain and suffering. He had seen much of Middle Earth, the land and the wars, and much of the hearts of Men, Elves, and Dwarves alike. He kept his identity hidden, his heart safely in his possession, and yet…by the glinting of the Evenstar against his chest, there was within Aragorn a great capacity for love and hope. This was the Man so many would hold above them all as one to be the guide for the last free peoples of Middle Earth.

Finally, I spoke from the direction of my thoughts: "There is more to you than just Strider the Ranger. It is more than sharpness. It is more than survival. You have the wisdom and courage of a great line of Kings, Aragorn son of Arathorn, and you could not hid it from anyone no matter how hard you tried. Roll you in mud, hid you with cloaks, take away your weapons…You would still be pulsing with the blood of Númenor, burning bright in your veins."

Aragorn returned my gaze with an intensity of his own. "And where did you get your wisdom and courage, Amira of the Dúnedain?" He touched my hand with his without taking his eyes away from mine. "Where does the Healer find her strength?"

I looked down upon our intertwined hands. "I do not know," I whispered. "It is by the grace of the Valar that my Healings can be made, but more than that, I do not know. I am but a child compared to you, Aragorn, and if I could only gain half of your valor in my lifetime, I would die a happy woman."

He gripped my hands tightly, drawing my eyes to his. "And you will, Amira. You are gaining it with every step you take upon this journey. Why else would it be that you were chosen for such powers? Why else would you return from the very brink of death if it weren't for valor?" He shook his head, "Nay, but you do not boast and outstretch your own worth. Be it as it may, with what I know and have seen of you, Amira, it is not a proud thing to say that you will go down in the songs and poems of Middle Earth as much as Frodo and Sam."

I turned to him fully. "And so will you, Estel," I watched his eyes flash upon mention of this name, "You are the heir of Isildur, and will be the returning King to his throne in Gondor, with a beautiful Elven Queen at your side."

I heard Aragorn's breath catch, and I watched him look away. "Arwen will be sailing for the Undying Lands any day now."

My heart stopped momentarily.

"What?"

His jaw tightened. "I would not let her give away her chance at safety in the Undying Lands for the sake of me. I could not allow her to rot in the darkness of Middle Earth as Sauron extends his shadow ever outward!"

I opened my mouth to speak, but there was nothing to say. I stood, gazing down at him in stunned silence. To think that I had not known of this the entire time we had stayed in Rivendell? I had surprised them in the small meadow that one evening, yes, but more had happened than just a happy couple in love those other days…

"What I saw in Lady Galadriel's mirror was true, then," I whispered shakily. "Arwen will be sailing to Valinor alongside the Lady of the Golden Wood."

Grief took me, but the burning of the White Tree pendant against my skin spoke of another story. I followed Aragorn's surprised gaze, and saw that the jade pendant was glowing a bright green.

Before I could speak, a familiar voice was speaking in my mind.

"_I have made my choice," Arwen whispered, letting a book fall from her hands and down to the marble ground beneath her slippered feet, "I choose the mortal life." She turned, and the soft breeze blew a strand of her ebony hair against her cheek. "I choose hope!"_

Her soft voice withdrew, and judging by Aragorn's shaken expression, he had heard it too.

"Arwen…" I whispered, clutching the pendant tightly in my palm. "She has not yet sailed!"

Aragorn was stricken. "No…" the anguish in his eyes was deep, "She cannot have decided such a fate for herself! Middle Earth is no place for her. Elves leave by the thousand every day. She will be alone in a world that lies in ruin!"

I grasped his shoulders. "It is not yet in ruin! And she will not be alone in this world. She has you, Estel. There is always hope. Do not speak to me thus when it is all we can hold onto."

He would not meet my eyes, shaking his head. "She will live for thousands of years. I will die long before the entirety of her life is spent. And then she will be alone, as she is destined to be."

I took his face between my hands, forcing him to look at me. "Do you not think she knows this? Arwen knows her destiny far better than any of us!" I paused, watching his eyes darkened. "She knows what will come with her mortal life, and still she chooses it. The power of love cannot be undone, Aragorn, and that is what keeps her from sailing to the Undying Lands. To have the chance of loving you, she stays," I paused, laying a finger on his lips when he opened his mouth to speak, "Do not blame yourself, Aragorn, for the destiny Arwen has chosen for herself. She has chosen _you_ and you alone."

I let my hands slip from his face as his expression turned distant. "I will follow you to the very doorstep of Mordor and into the depths of Mount Doom, my King, should you command it…"

He smiled sadly, shaking his head. "Amira-"

"We would all do so," I interrupted, crouching in front of him, my hands on his knees. "We are tied to your fate out of our own choice, Aragorn. We would all fight alongside you no matter how little hope there was for victory. And now, in such dark times, it is well to remember that there are many who will stand beside you, Aragorn, and fight beneath your banner. You have power that Saruman fears – the power to unite Men!"

Aragorn touched my hands were they lay on his knees, leaning forward. "I am proud and fortunate indeed to have you fighting beside me, _mellon nin_," he whispered, brushing his fingers of my Ring of power. "I will bring fight to the end of my strength and blood to bring Sauron and his servant Saruman to ruin."

"Then it will be done," I whispered back. "I have faith in you, Aragorn."

"As do I," Ehlon's voice came from beside a column. We turned toward her in unison, and I forgot the severity of our conversation for a moment as I took in her change of appearance. Dressed in an ivory white dress that shimmered about her in the wind, she looked all the more queenly with her dark hair left to fall freely over her shoulders. Her eyes danced with her strength and vitality. She truly was a sight to behold.

She came to stand beside me. "You ever have my sword, Aragorn."

The man stood, lifting me up with him. "I have the swords of two of the strongest women in Middle Earth. I count myself blessed, indeed, to have you both by my side," he murmured. His smile was kind and tender at once as he grasped our shoulders. "Come…let us aid this weary Hall to forget its age and darkness!"

* * *

After a brief luncheon in the small dining hall with the others, I wandered the palace on my own. Like Aragorn had spoken of, there was much darkness and weariness in the stones, as though the troubles and toils of Rohan were slowly breaking them as much as breaking the heart of the King. The banners hanging in the corridors and halls were faded and dusty, and some were torn and in need of repair. The symbol of the running horse was rampant through the many Halls, homage to the horse lords of the royal House of Rohan, but it was as though it were merely a reminder of the splendor that had once existed within the palace, never to return.

I touched the golden fringe upon one of the banners, sliding my hand upward to feel the velvet black material of the banner itself. When I took my hand away, a coating of dust fell into the air. There was great pride still in this palace, I could feel it, but it had been long since there had been any joy and victory, any songs and dances. The darkness of the white wizard in Isengard had been creeping throughout this place like the gloomy tentacles of the Watcher in the Water, and I wondered just what sort of poison Gríma Wormtongue had whispered into the King's ear in the last few years of his "council" here in the Hall of Meduseld.

Sighing, I turned away from the banner and continued, watching the maids and servant boys as they prepared for the feast. I nodded at Lady Éowyn when she brushed passed me, and she smiled brightly before turning through a door. I walked until I had reached the great Hall of Meduseld, peering around a column at the throne. To my surprise, it was empty!

"You came with Gandalf, did you not, my Lady?" a voice asked. I whirled around, gazing across the floor to a man dressed in red and green. It was King Théoden, looking fit and noble once more.

"My liege," I said quietly, curtsying quickly before him. "I came as a member of the Fellowship of the Ring, King Théoden, and am a close friend from of Gandalf the White."

The King smiled, "Then I am honoured to have you in my House, my Lady, for I will not forget what you have done in releasing me from Saruman's spell."

I met his kind blue eyes, "My King, it was not I who released you, but Gandalf himself."

He chuckled, stepping forward and taking my hand in his. "Lady Amira, I have heard of your greatness from the very lips of the wizard himself. You had a part in exposing the spy of Saruman, and for that and by your virtuous heart I am honoured to have you stay in Edoras."

"M-my King," I stammered, bowing my head, "Thank-you."

Théoden brought my hand to his lips. "Come, Lady Amira, follow me a moment."

Still grasping my hand, he led me down to the end of the Hall, where the empty throne sat. He gestured to the markings upon the walls. "Do you see those symbols, my Lady?" he asked, "Those are the lineage of my people, the horse lords of Rohan, that same lineage that my son will carry one when I have passed-"

He stopped suddenly, looking around as terror and dread glinted in his eyes. "My son!" he whispered, "Where is Théodred?"

One of the guards hurried toward him. "My Lord, your son is dead. He came from the West Fold, carried by Éomer not two days ago."

Théoden staggered backwards as though he had been run through by a spear. "Théodred…" he murmured, holding his chest in quiet grief. "Théodred, my son!"

I touched his arm carefully, drawing his hot eyes to mine. "You would not have known, my King. Your ears were stopped by Gríma Wormtongue," I said, watching him gasp for breath.

The King stared at me, but I do not think he truly saw me standing in front of him. His eyes were glazed over, as though the smoke of Mordor itself was covering them. I clutched his forearm, startling him out of whatever nightmare he had fallen into. "Théoden King, the events that occurred in this Hall were not through any fault of your own!"

He looked down at my hand where it lay on his arm, and then he drew his gaze to the guard, whose lips were trembling in silent fear. "Take me to him," he ground out lowly, "Take me to my son!"

The guard hurriedly called a few others and followed after the King. Théoden gestured for them to lead the way, but then stopped short, turning to me. "Come, Lady Amira. You have seen the full darkness of my House. You will now the see the ruin of it in the flesh," he murmured, a steely glint in his pure blue eyes.

My heart constricted as I took in the raw pain and grief in those eyes. I touched his shoulder, surprising him again. "My King, this does not spell the end!" I whisper-cried, "There is still hope for Rohan." I took a calming breath, "Do not despair, Théoden King, or your people will fall into chaos."

He closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again. He took my hand. "You are much like my niece Éowyn, Lady Amira," he said quietly as he led me down the corridor after the five guards, "Strong and brave, wise and fair. If it were not for women in this War, what kind of peace would there be in death for Men if they did not know that they were fighting for the ones they loved, to keep them safe?" He set his jaw, and I could tell he was rapidly working through his emotions. We turned a corner briskly, walking faster than ever now as though a new purpose had been alit in Théoden's heart. My own heart was breaking for the King as I strove to keep up with him. This Man was striding to meet the bitter nightmare of his existence, to see his son and heir in Death, and he was doing so in the most courageous effort I had ever seen in my life. I would never forget Théoden in this moment of fiery will. He was a true King of old, a pillar of strength even in this time of chaos and despair. It was then that I admired him more than ever…

Rounding another corner, we stopped to let the guards unbar the door. Théoden pushed his way into the dark room, and I followed behind at the questioning stares of the guards. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust, but once they had, I nearly wept at the scene in front of me.

Théoden was standing above the pale, lifeless body of his son, lying there in full ceremonial armour upon the royal bed. The King let out a loud exhale, as though all of his strength was leaving him. I watched as he touched the cold hands of Théodred where they lay clasped over his sword hilt, resting there upon his chest. I stepped forward slowly, cautiously, until I stood beside the King. I looked down over Théodred's face, calm and regal in expression.

"He has found peace at last," Théoden murmured, as though to himself. "Yes…" he sighed, "he has found peace where there was none in his own House."

I turned to him. "Do not blame yourself, my Liege."

He snarled suddenly, gripping my arm roughly. "Do not command where I lay my blame, Lady!" he growled, his eyes dark and clouded with grief and anger. "I know what my legacy will be. I am a lesser King of greater sires!" He turned feverishly back to the vision of Théodred before us. "Here I stand, a father over the dead body of his son; the father bent with age and poison while he son lies in death, still young and strong." His shining eyes met mine once more. "How can you stand and tell me there is no despair, that there is hope still, when the light of Men is fading? Fate has decreed it so."

Théoden let go of my arm, seemingly overcome with emotion. I stared at him in silence, stunned and moved by his speech. I watched his body heave as he struggled to even his breathing. The dark moment passed like a storm cloud over a field, and his face grew less grim and angry as the midday sun flooded in through the window behind us.

The King took a deep breath. "My Lady, I am sorry for my forbidding words. It was not proper of me to speak to you thus," he faced me at last, his face composed once more. I would have thought that his grief was over if I had not glimpsed the raw pain that lay in his eyes still.

I bowed my head, "There is nothing to apologize for, my Liege."

He touched my hand, turning it over in his own. "Oh but there is, Lady Amira," he said, his voice becoming stronger. "You have seen me in my weakest, most foul moment," the King paused, swallowing thickly, "No one should see their King, any King, such as you have seen me."

I was about to speak when footsteps echoed out in the hall, coming to a stop at the doorway.

Éowyn glanced wide-eyed between us. "Uncle!" she cried in alarm, moving to his side quickly. I watched her search his eyes before backing away. "Uncle, why are you here? Théodred is just being prepared for burial."

The King gazed at Lady Éowyn for a long moment before grasping her shoulders. "Young Éowyn, I did not even know the passing of my own son. Now that I have awakened from my slumber, I will fight to my bitter end to keep you, the White Lady of Rohan, safe, and the hopes of our people alive in this fearsome time."

"And so will I," I added, drawing Éowyn's startled gaze.

Théoden patted her shoulder. "Let two days hence be the burial of Théodred of Rohan."

And with this, the King whirled out of the room.

* * *

After this pivotal moment, I left to gather my thoughts. Stopping at the same balcony, I leaned against the stone railing, looking out over the land. A strong wind was blowing now, whipping the flags above me on one of the towers, flapping loudly like birds wings against the growing gale. The sun was at the centre of the sky now, burning bright against the sky. I wondered, as I stared up at the sky, if somewhere in the mists above the blueness, the fate of all of this was truly known.

Was this hope a futile rope to hang onto?

The answer that came to my heart was soft but strong: No, it was not…

* * *

I stood there for a very long time. I let out a loud exhale, feeling drained. There was a strange ache in the center of my chest, but the deeper I breathed the more tightly wound the feeling became. My thoughts turned irrevocably back to the visions in my mind's eye while I had been wavering towards Death. I had felt that same happiness to be back in Middle Earth alive and well, yes, but the exhaustion now bespoke of something boiling beneath the surface. I had made my final choice, had I not?

I turned away from the view and toward the ominous dark clouds, as black as ash, where they were set against the craggy mountains. Without warning, questions flooded into me, questions which I had known all along were bubbling up inside me but ones I had never spoken or considered. More than anything, I questioned myself. What had the visions meant? A memory of the emotion flashing in Gandalf's eye came back to me, and something akin to anger rose inside me. I pushed it away, feeling strange.

Footsteps echoed nearby, catching me off guard. Ehlon's voice reached me: "Something happened, didn't it?"

I turned to her, confused.

There was a tense, emotionless expression on her face. "Something happened after you told me you had a final decision to make…" She stopped in front of me, but I couldn't meet her eyes. She sighed, "Amira, something is wrong and I care far too much about you to let whatever is going on inside your head eat away at your reserves at strength." I looked into her eyes. "Tell me," she pleaded in a softer voice, touching me on the shoulder.

As much as I wanted to tell her everything, I couldn't. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words passed my dry lips. I looked down at my hands. "Ehlon," I finally said, "I can't."

A strange look passed over her face, and she shook her head, turning on her heel away from me. Panic hit me, and the pain in my chest intensified. "Wait!"

My voice stopped her in her tracks. She stayed with her back to me.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Mandos showed me a vision," I said quietly, "I am to become Saruman's High General, set to destroy Aragorn."

Ehlon did not move. The wind picked a stray lock of hair and played it over her shoulder, the sun illuminating hidden tones of red within the dark strands.

I sighed: "In that Hall, Ehlon, I saw myself as I never have before. I was dark and terrible, aged and spent with the weight of carrying evil upon my shoulders. I did not recognize myself, and yet in a strange, awful way, I did. I recognized this dark image, and it is this that frightens me most…" I paused, realizing I was voicing now the thoughts that had lain buried within my mind for some time now. "I have seen the Eye, Ehlon, and it is for no light reason Sauron's darkness reaches minds of Men. It must be this darkness I have seen within myself that Sauron seeks…my parallel destiny that runs within my veins." I stopped myself, unable to believe what was issuing from my lips. As much as it burned me to say it, my words ringed with truth. There was more to the magic flowing through me than just goodness and healing – it was a dark power too, capable of unsaid things that only I could imagine.

The silence between us was icy, and finally I could bear it no longer.

"Ehlon, speak please!" I begged, stepping toward her gingerly, "Spare me of your silence."

She froze when she felt my hand on her arm, and then in a blur of motion, she whirled to face me, her eyes masked with rage. "Where is the wizard?" she ground out in a low voice that bespoke of danger. Ehlon gripped the sleeves of my shirt, her expression wild. "_Where is he?_"

Shocked beyond belief, I could not speak. She let me go roughly, turning around and making toward the stairs. Finally I found my tongue: "Ehlon! What in the name of the Valar are you doing?"

She stopped half-way down the stairs, pivoting on her heels so that she was facing me. "The wizard has kept the truth of your lineage away from you, that much I know," she forced out. Then, once she took in my gobsmacked expression, the hard lines of her face gave way to a gentler countenance. "Come Amira," she held out her hand, "There is much to be explained."

I shook my head as I stepped next to her on the stairs, "_What_ is to be explained? And what has my lineage got to do with this?" My question went unheeded as the fury of her pace brought us closer to the main Hall. Struggling to keep up with her, I could barely make out her angered muttering.

"Scum of Orcs," she spat lowly, "…but of _course_ he never told her anything! Fool!"

"Ehlon, would you please tell me what is going on?" I pleaded, but she ignored me as though my voice were but the annoying whine of a marsh mosquito.

She stopped abruptly when the cloaked figure of Gandalf came into view, standing powerfully there upon the balcony. Smoke rose above his head as he puffed thoughtfully on his pipe, leaning against the rail. He did not turn, but I knew he had sensed our presence.

"Gandalf," Ehlon finally broke out, her tone grim and perilous, "you must tell Amira everything, _now_…"

* * *

**As you can see, I'm back! :) This isn't my best chapter, as it could still use some editing, but I wanted to get this posted so that you would see that I am still in business and have been working quite seriously on the story as of late.**

**Also, you may have noticed, Ehlon is being awesome as usual. You will see why she has her panties in a knot in the next chapter, which I will upload as soon as possible. It will explain a great deal of things you may or may not have been wondering about, pertaining to Amira and her magic, etc. I can't give away too many details yet, but I'm sure you can imagine where this is going...**

**Thank-you for sticking with me, and I hope never to let so much time go by again between chapters. **

**Please review, as it would make me grin like a fool ;)**


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